


It Might Have Been

by Penthesilea1623



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen's doomed romance with an unrecruited Solona Amell.  What happened before the Warden found him in the cage in the Tower and before he ended up Knight Captain in Kirkwall.  Takes place in the All That Might Be universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Will You Be Kind?

**_"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these: it might have been."_ **  
_John Greenleaf Whittier_

  


It was only chance that put Cullen at the door when she was brought in. 

The huge main door, the entrance to Kinloch Hold, was a station for older, more seasoned templars. Cullen had been walking by when Knight Corporal Drass had called him over telling him he needed to relieve himself. 

“Just stand here while I’m at the privy.” Drass told him. 

Cullen’s surprise had shown on his face. It wasn’t exactly against the rules, but Knight Commander Greagoir wouldn’t have liked it, a templar recruit who'd only recently been transferred to Kinloch Hold, who had only just been given his armor, guarding the door because Drass hadn’t thought to visit the privy before his watch began. He glanced nervously at the other templar on duty.

Drass saw where his gaze had gone. “You don’t need to worry about old Berik. He’s just had his dose. He’s gone to his happy place.” He said with a snicker. 

Cullen flushed. He was just a recruit and wouldn't begin taking lyrium until after he took his vows, which was still years away. Just a recruit, but already he knew what happened eventually and he knew Berik had been a templar for long enough that his wits were beginning to be affected. ‘Happy place’ wasn’t what he would have called it, but he put the thought out of his mind. That was a long way off, and it was a small price to pay anyway for the prestige of being a templar. Templars mattered. The work they did was important, invaluable even. Everyone respected them. 

Besides it took years and years for the lyrium to do that to you. Berik was ancient. Fifty at least.

Drass pulled off his helmet and handed it to Cullen. “Put this on. No one knows the difference once the helmet’s on.” He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked away. 

Cullen slipped the helmet on and moved to the other side of the great doors from Berik. He stood there, looking at the Great Hall, the soaring ceilings, the massive stonework. Suddenly it all felt very real. 

He was a templar. He smiled behind the helmet. He’d done it. He'd worked hard, harder than he'd ever worked at anything, and it had paid off: he'd come through his initial training with flying colors and received his first assignment, here, at Kinloch Hold, not at some backwater Chantry out in the Bannorn, but guarding the very door of the Tower of the Circle of Magi. Making sure nothing got in or out that shouldn’t. Keeping Ferelden safe from the scourge of magic and mages….

He started at the sudden, thunderous pounding on the door.

Berik’s helmeted head turned slowly towards it. “I think someone’s there.” He said in a dazed voice. But instead of moving to open the doors, he turned his head back around to look straight ahead. 

Cullen stared at him, uncertain of what to do, but when the pounding began again he went and pulled the door open. 

Two men stood there. Not templars: they didn’t look disreputable exactly, but they were big, rough men. Cullen wouldn’t have wanted to meet them in a dark alley. One of them was carrying some sort of bundle over his shoulder.

They didn’t wait for Cullen to speak. 

“We got a mage for you.” The man said, tossing the bundle to the ground with about as much care as you would a sack of flour or potatoes. A small whimper came from it.

It was a child, Cullen realized with horror. He dropped to his knees beside … him? Her? He turned the small figure over and the hood slipped off the child’s head revealing long dark hair, snarled and matted. She seemed barely conscious. Her cheeks were flushed a hectic red, and at some point she’d been sick, if the front of her dress and cloak were anything to judge by. Not recently; it was dry and crusted onto the fabric. 

Cullen felt his temper flare. “What did you do to her?” He demanded getting to his feet. His voice echoed strangely in the helmet.

The men exchanged a slightly shamefaced look.

“She’s dangerous.” One of them said. “Set off a fire spell that near killed the templars that were supposed to bring her here. The chantry in Amaranthine paid us to bring her instead. Gave us magebane so she wouldn’t be no trouble. We just did what they told us.”

“Yeah.” The other one echoed. “We just did what they told us.” He nudged the girl with the toe of his boot and she let out a moan. “See?” Said the man hopefully. “She’s fine. We just gave her the bane. Like they told us.” 

“You gave her too much.” Said Cullen angrily, pushing him away from the child and kneeling down beside her again. She couldn’t be more than five or six. “You’ve poisoned her.” He informed them looking at her more closely. All the signs were there: the flushed cheeks, the too rapid breathing, and the sluggishness. Her one cheek was badly bruised and her lip was split. They were older injuries. The lip would scar: it should have been treated days ago. He put one arm beneath her to lift her up.

Her eyes fluttered open at the touch. They were large and thickly lashed, so dark a brown they appeared almost black and they seemed to show all the sorrow in the world, all the hurt, and when she saw him looming above her, fear as well. She let out a small scared sound and began to struggle feebly against his hold. 

The helmet, Cullen realized. He quickly pulled it off. “It’s all right.” He said in the same calm voice he'd used with his younger siblings when they were scared or hurt.

When she saw his face the fear subsided, though the sorrow and hurt remained. “Hush, now. It’s all right.” He assured her with a gentle smile. “We’ll take care of you.”

She went still in his arms, staring at him and then she tried to speak, but had to stop and swallow before she could. “Will you be kind?” She asked. Her voice was hoarse as if she hadn’t spoken in days.

It was such an odd question that he couldn’t help but be puzzled. “Kind?” He repeated. 

Those dark eyes remained fixed on his. “Mama said that even among the templars, some would be kind. Is it you?” 

There was such hope in the question that all he could do was nod. For the first time he felt the full weight of the responsibility of his profession. Surely this was what being a templar was meant to be. “Yes.” He said firmly, “I will be kind.” 

It felt like a vow. 

The templars weren’t supposed to get close to the mages, weren’t supposed to form attachments, that was made clear to them every day of their training, but surely this was different. She was just a child, torn from her home, ill, scared and far too young to cope with all of this by herself. He would keep an eye on her, and make sure she was safe. He would be kind. “My name's Cullen. What's yours?” He asked softly. 

“Solona." She whispered. "Solona Amell.” She said her full name slowly and precisely. Her eyes drifted closed again. 

“Solona?” He said anxiously. She didn’t stir and he scooped her up in his arms and ran towards the infirmary. Senior Enchanter Wynne would know what to do. 

 

Wynne wasn’t surprised when both Irving and Greagoir turned up in the infirmary later that day. She didn’t bother to get up from the chair next to Solona’s bed but waited for the two men to approach; it wasn’t her they were coming to see after all. Irving came and stood beside her. The Knight Commander went to the foot of the bed. 

“How is she?” He asked gruffly looking down at the small form. _Maker,_ he thought. _She was young to have shown magic already._ They would need to watch her carefully. 

Wynne looked at the girl. The hectic flush was gone, and she was breathing easier. “She’ll be fine. That new recruit – what’s his name? Colin?” 

“Cullen.” Said Greagoir. 

“Cullen. He recognized the signs of magebane poisoning immediately. A recruit who pays attention in herbology lectures is a rare thing. You should keep an eye on him. He shows promise.” And a recruit who wasn’t afraid of or disdainful of mages, was even rarer. She didn’t say that to Greagoir, though she would be mentioning it to Irving later on when they were alone. 

Greagoir gave a small grunt. “He handled himself well.” He admitted grudgingly. It could have been disastrous. One lyrium addled templar, one templar who seemed to have no idea what being on watch entailed, and the most level headed templar there was a boy of sixteen, a recruit who hadn’t made any particular impression on Greagoir up until now. 

Wynne turned to Irving. “Do we have any information about her?” They didn’t a lot of the time. Most families were all too willing to abandon children who were discovered to be mages.

“Indeed we do. She’s from a noble family in Kirkwall. The Amells. I’ve a letter from the girl’s uncle. They want no further news of her, but provided she proves an asset to the Circle he’s willing to allow her to keep her name. He said he told her as much when the templars came for her, and that though she’s young she understands what that means.”

Wynne snorted. “Oh, generous of him. How old is she?”

“She’s just turned five.” Irving said, not looking at Greagoir, knowing full well what the Knight Commander's reaction would be. 

“She's only five?” Greagoir brows came together as he looked down at the child. Five years old. Even younger than he’d thought.

Wynne frowned. She’d thought the girl was older. “She’s tall for her age. I would have said six or seven even.” She looked back at Greagoir. “Cullen said something about an accident in Amaranthine?”

“Yes." Said Greagoir, his frown deepening. "The templars who had escorted her from her home were badly burned. The Mother at the Chantry there didn’t want to risk her own templars being injured, so she hired those men and gave them enough magebane to bring down half a dozen senior enchanters.” He looked back at Irving. “She’ll need to be taught how to control her magic if it’s so volatile. I’m going to assign a templar to her until she’s shown she’s safe.” _As safe as a mage ever could be._ , he thought. He knew both Wynne and Irving would have something to say about that, and he wasn't disappointed

“That’s ridiculous.” Wynne protested. “Hasn’t the girl gone through enough?”

“Do you truly think it necessary?” Irving asked.

“Yes.” Said Greagoir resolutely. 

Wynne’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “She wouldn’t have lashed out at those templars in Amaranthine for no reason. You think assigning one to guard her to lurk over her day and night is going to make her less fearful?”

“She brought down two templars. Should I let her roam free through the halls?” Greagoir retorted, his voice rising.

“She’s five years old!” Almost the same age as her son would be, Wynne thought. Had he shown any signs of magic? And if he had, had he been abandoned at one of the Circles? Almost without thinking she reached out to stroke Solona’s soft cheek. She felt Irving’s hand come to rest lightly on her shoulder and knew he had realized her thoughts, even if Greagoir hadn’t.

“Perhaps we could compromise.” Suggested Irving. “Young Cullen. Has he shown skill?” 

Greagoir frowned. “Templar skills, you mean? I haven’t heard anything to the contrary.” He gave Irving a sharp look, suddenly realizing what the First Enchanter was hinting at. “You must be joking. You want me to assign a templar who’s scarcely more than a boy, who hasn’t even taken his vows…”

“A templar who kept his head about him and showed kindness to a small child.” Wynne pointed out. “A templar who showed compassion rather than fear.”

Greagoir looked down at the child again. Cullen had told him of the condition she’d been in, of the bruises on her face. Wynne had healed what she could, but there were still traces of them, and a cut on her lip, too old to heal fully. No child should be abused like that. Cullen's response to the situation had been flawless. It would be good experience for the lad. “Very well. I’ll have to check with the Knight Lieutenant, but if Hadley feels he’s qualified, Cullen can be one of those who watch her until she’s learned some control.”

“I think it will be good training for both our newest templar, and our newest mage.” Said Irving, well pleased with the outcome. Perhaps, slowly, if they started when they were very young, things in the Circle could change for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


	2. Keeping Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona dreams about how she ended up at the Circle Tower and wakes to find Cullen watching over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a child being hit and smited and implied attempted child abuse.

_She was playing in the bath._

_It was one of her favorite things to do. Mama and Nurse were in the other room, discussing what dress she should be put in when the bath was done. She picked up a big handful of bubbles and put them on her chin as her mother walked in._

_“Look Mama. I’m Uncle Aristide.”_

_Her mother smiled though she cast a nervous glance over at Nurse who had a shocked expression on her face. Solona just laughed. Uncle didn’t mind when she teased him._

_Nurse bent and picked up the pitcher they’d used to rinse her hair. “It’s time for you to get out of the bath, little mistress.”_

_“I don’t want to get out.” She protested._

_“That water must be ice cold by now.” Her mother said. “It can’t be comfortable to sit in.”_

_“I can make it warm!” Solona said happily. “Look.” She’d been waiting to show her mother this new trick she’d learned. She thrust her hands under the water and concentrated. It had been hard to do at first but somehow she’d just known she could. She felt that familiar warmth rush through her into her hands and with just a little push it went out. She looked down and smiled at the sight of her hands glowing orange under the soapy water. She looked over at Mama and Nurse and found to her chagrin they weren’t watching. “Mama, look!” She called out._

_Both women turned. Nurse shrieked and dropped the pitcher which shattered on the ground. She went running from the room._

_“Mage! She’s a mage.” Solona heard her yelling. She turned back to her mother in confusion._

_Mama had backed away to the doorframe. She looked white, and had one trembling hand over her mouth. “Oh, Solona.” She said, and tears were streaming down her face. “Oh Solona, what have you done?”_

 

Cullen cleared his throat. “Senior Enchanter? The Knight Commander told me I was to report to you.”

Wynne looked up from her novel and smiled at the boy. “Your name is Cullen, right?”

“Yes, Senior Enchanter.” 

“Well Cullen. The Knight Commander explained what was expected?”

Cullen nodded. “I was to watch over Solona and stop her if she seemed like she might lose control of her magic.” 

He called her by name. Not mage. That was good. “Yes. Frankly I don’t think you’ll need to do anything. This early on it’s usually only extremes of emotion that would make so young a mage lash out like that, and until the magebane is fully out of her system I don’t think we’ll have much to worry about anyway.” 

“Yes, Senior Enchanter.” He stood there uncertainly, looking every inch a gawky teenager, and Wynne couldn’t help smiling.

“You don’t have to stand at attention here, Cullen.”

He relaxed visibly and his eyes went over to the bed where Solona lay. “Would it be all right….could I sit beside her? If she wakes up she might be frightened. She might remember my face from before.”

Wynne’s face softened. “Yes, go ahead.” She told him. She watched as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He seemed a good lad. She went back to her novel with a small smile curving her lips. 

 

_Solona clung to her mother’s hand. Everyone was there, the whole family, in Uncle Aristide’s study upstairs in the library. She didn’t understand what she’d done wrong. Everyone seemed to be afraid of her. Her grandparents and great aunt wouldn’t even look at her. Cousin Gamlen and Cousin Leandra were in the corner of the room nearest the stairs, the farthest corner from Uncle, almost as if they were trying to hide._

_“I’ve sent word to the Knight Commander and she's replied.” Said Uncle. “The Templars will be arriving shortly to take her. The ship will leave with the tide.”_

_Her mother’s arm, which had been around her shoulders, tightened, pulling her closer. “The ship? She’s leaving Kirkwall?”_

_Solona let out a small whimper and slid her arms around her mother’s hips, clutching her._

_Uncle slammed his hand down on the table and her mother flinched. “Are you truly fool enough to think I would keep that” he shouted, pointing at Solona “in Kirkwall as a constant reminder of the disgrace she’s brought upon us?”_

_Her mother seemed to shrink back, all defiance gone. “Where are they taking her?”_

_“I told them I didn’t want to know.” Said Uncle. “We won’t be hearing about her again.”_

_Her mother began to sob._

_Solona looked around in confusion. “I don’t want to go!” She said loudly. “I don’t want to go away. I won’t.”_

_Uncle Aristide was suddenly there in front of her. He lifted his arm and backhanded her across the face. Light seemed to explode behind her eyes and she went flying to the floor. She lay there whimpering, the side of her face throbbing. She could taste blood._

_She’d never been struck before._

_Her mother dropped to the floor beside, her pulling her into her arms. “She’s just a child.” She shouted at Uncle._

_“She is an Amell! She will accept my judgment and behave as an Amell should or she can leave her name behind with everything else!” He looked down at Solona. “Do you understand, girl?” He asked her. His eyes flickered down to her mouth and she saw a brief flash of regret that vanished almost as soon as it had appeared._

_She stared up at this stranger who looked like her Uncle Aristide, but couldn’t be him. Uncle had only ever been kind to her. “Yes, Uncle.” She whispered. The swelling of her lip made it hard to speak._

_“I’m not your uncle. Not anymore.” He turned away. “Pack enough clothes for her for a week. The Templars will be here soon.”_

_She watched in a daze as Mama packed her clothes in a small bag. No one came into the room to help them. When she’d finished she knelt down in front of her daughter. She smiled but couldn’t seem to speak._

_“I don’t want to go away.” Solona said in a small voice._

_“I know, my darling, but you must, and you must be brave.” The tears began to run down her face again but she kept the smile fixed there. “Remember what Uncle said: if you are good and brave you’ll always be Solona Amell, they won’t take that away from you. Promise me you’ll listen to the templars and that you’ll try so hard to be good.”_

_Solona’s face crumpled. “I promise, Mama.”_

_“The templars might seem frightening, but there will be some who are kind. Find them and show them what a good girl you are.” She slipped the girl’s cloak around her shoulders and fastened it._

_“Revka.”_

_Solona and her mother both looked up. Cousin Leandra was standing at the door, her face twisted oddly as if she too were trying not to cry. “They’re here.” She said._

_Solona threw her arms around her mother’s neck and for just a second Revka hugged her back. Then she pulled back. “Now, none of that.” She reached up and took the gold Andraste medallion she always wore from around her neck, and slipped in over Solona’s head. “You keep this on. And whenever you look at it or touch it know that I’m thinking about you.” She tucked it inside her daughter’s dress and stood, taking her hand and walking with her down the stairs._

_The room was empty except for Uncle and two templars were waiting in the entrance and one of them moved forward as they approached. He had strange light blue eyes._

_“This is Ser Otto. He’ll be taking you to your new home.” Said Uncle. He watched her expectantly._

_She turned to look at Ser Otto. “Thank you, Ser.” She said in a small voice._

_Uncle gave a small nod of approval. “This is Solona Amell.” He told the templars._

_She heard Cousin Leandra begin to cry._

_“If you are incapable of controlling yourself Leandra you can go to your room.” Uncle snapped._

_“We’ll take good care of her Lord Aristide.” Ser Otto took the bag from Leandra and passed it to his companion without looking. He reached down and picked up Solona._

_And without another word he walked out the door. She heard her mother cry out her name as it shut behind them._

_Solona was quiet as they walked through Hightown, down the stairs, first to Lowtown, and then to the Docks._

_Ser Otto paused by an empty alley. “Watch the entrance.” He told the other man and walked to the end of it, putting Solona down on the ground._

_She looked up at him with big dark eyes._

_He smiled at her but it didn’t make her feel better like most people’s smiles did. “You’re a pretty little girl. And you’ve been good so far. No fussing and wailing. That will serve you well in the Circle.” He reached out and touched her cheek where Uncle had hit her. “But this shows me that you need to understand what happens to naughty mages who misbehave.” He straightened up, looking at her through narrowed eyes. “Yes. I think you need to know that.”_

_Her heart began to pound. She started to step back when he did something, seeming to throw something, something that hit her, though she couldn’t see anything, something that seemed to tear through her, taking part of her with it. She fell to the ground, shaking. Her stomach heaved and she was ill._

_She heard armor clanking and dimly heard the other templar speaking. “Maker’s tits, Otto. What the Void did you do to her.”_

_“Only what was necessary.” Two armor clad feet moved to standing front of her. “That’s called a smite, little mage. And that’s what bad little mages get.” He grabbed her hair and lifted her head so she was looking at him. “Do you understand me, little mage?”_

_“Yes, ser.” She whispered._

_His eyes searched her face and he gave a small grunt before releasing her. She fell to the ground again. He pulled out a handkerchief and dropped it to the ground in front of her. “Clean yourself up, Solona Amell. We need to board our ship.”_

 

 

Cullen had watched as Solona grew more and more restless. He reached out and touched her hand, hoping to soothe her and her eyes flew open. She looked around frantically. She stopped when she saw Cullen and went very still.

Cullen smiled gently at her. “It’s all right.” He told her. “You’re safe.” 

She slowly relaxed.

“Do you remember me from before?” He asked softly. He looked over and saw Wynne crossing the room to join them. 

She looked at him solemnly for a moment before answering. “You said you’d be kind.” 

“Yes. Do you remember my name?” He asked.

She nodded slowly. 

“Can you tell me?”

“Cullen.” His hand was still on the bed and she reached out and wrapped her fingers around it. Wynne walked up beside Cullen, and Solona looked at her uncertainly. She turned to Cullen for reassurance.

“This is Senior Enchanter Wynne. She’s been taking care of you. She’s a very talented healer.”

Wynne smiled at her. “It’s good to see you awake, child. How are you feeling?”

“I’m thirsty.” Solona said.

“That’s easily remedied.” Said Wynne. “Cullen, would you be so good as to get her some water? There’s a pitcher on the stand over there. 

Cullen slipped his hand from Solona’s. “I’ll be right back.” He promised.

She watched him leave and then turned to look at Wynne. “Are you a mage?” 

“Indeed I am.” Said Wynne. “Just like you.”

“Can I learn to heal too?” Solona asked hopefully. 

“You’ll have lessons here.” Wynne told her. “And we’ll find out what kind of magic you’re most skilled at.”

Solona looked down at her hands. “Fire.” She said so low Wynne could scarcely hear her. 

“Yes. From what I’ve heard you may well be an elemental mage.” Wynne was careful to keep her voice neutral.

“I hurt those men.” She was staring at her hands. 

“Yes.” Wynne agreed. “You did. Did you do it on purpose?” 

“No!” Solona protested. “They took Mama’s necklace from me.”

Wynne looked puzzled. “Your mother’s necklace?” She asked as Cullen came back with the water.

“I was sick on the ship, the whole time.” She explained. “When we got off the ship we went to an inn. Ser Otto said I needed a bath because I smelled bad. He unbuttoned my dress and then he saw the necklace and he said it was too valuable for a mage and he took it.” She looked up at them. “Mama gave it to me so I’d know she was thinking of me and he took it. And when I got angry at him I could tell from his eyes he was going to do that thing again.” 

Senior Enchanter Wynne and Cullen exchanged a quick grim glance. 

“What thing?” Wynne asked. 

“The smite thing.” Solona told her. She didn't notice the relieved look on both Wynne's and Cullen's faces. “It hurt when he did it. It made me be sick. I didn’t want him to do that and I wanted Mama’s necklace back. I was scared.” She added in a whisper. “And then it just happened.” She looked up at Cullen. “Will I be punished?” Tears filled her eyes.

“No.” Said Wynne sharply. “You won’t be.” 

“Mama’s necklace melted. Her Andraste necklace.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “How will I know she’s thinking of me now?” 

Cullen put the water down on the night table and reached into the neck of his armor, pulling out a silver chain and lifting it over his head. A small medallion dangled from it. “Did your Mama’s necklace look like this?” He asked holding out his hand. 

She looked at the medallion lying in his palm and nodded. “Yes, but Mama’s was gold.” 

Cullen smiled and slipped it over her head. “Well this one isn’t gold." His brother and sisters had given it to him when he'd left home. It probably wasn't even real silver. "But the symbol is the same and I promise you when you look at it or touch it your Mother will be thinking of you.” 

She picked it up in her hands and then looked up at him with a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Ser.” 

Even with the cut on her lip and the bruise on her face she was a remarkably pretty little girl, far prettier than most. Cullen couldn't help thinking about what she’d told them of the templars who had brought her to Ferelden. He handed her the water he’d brought. "Here you go." She took the cup in both hands and drank and Cullen turned to Wynne. “Could I talk with you Senior Enchanter?” He asked. 

They went over to Wynne’s small office. “Those Templars. Do you think they intended to…” He couldn’t even voice the thought. Templars were supposed to protect mages but these Templars... “There would have been no reason to take her to an inn.” He said finally.

 _No._ Thought Wynne. _There wouldn’t be. The child could have been given a bath by the sisters at the Chantry._ Aloud she said. “We’ll never know, Cullen. But I think she lost control of her magic at a most opportune time.” 

Cullen looked over at the little girl holding the medallion in her hand and running her fingers over it. She had a small melancholy smile on her face. “Yes.” He said with no small satisfaction. “A very opportune time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


	3. Come and Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After giving her a few days to heal, Solona's magical talent is evaluated.

Greagoir’s mouth had formed a grim line when Wynne related Solona’s version of what had happened in Amaranthine, but still he had refused to rescind his order that the child have a templar assigned to her at all times at least until after her magic had been evaluated. Given all that had happened to her, the decision had been made to give her a few days to recover from her ordeal before that happened. After consulting with Knight Captain Hadley though, Greagoir did at least consent to Irving’s request that Cullen be one of the templars on the rotation.

Cullen received some ribbing about it, his fellow recruits asking if he was training to be a Templar or a nanny and asking if changing nappies was part of the task, but they were all aware of what a mark of favor it was for a brand new recruit to be given such an assignment, and more than a few of the jibes contained a note of envy.

And so it was three days later that Cullen left the dining hall after breakfast and found himself at a loss for what to do with himself until he it was time for him to report to the infirmary; leisure time wasn’t something templar recruits often encountered.

He could write to his family, he supposed. Maker knew his sister had been complaining that they hardly ever heard from him, and he felt more than a little guilty about that.

It wasn’t that he didn’t miss them, far from it, but truth was he didn’t know what to say in letters home. Going on about training and lessons would bore them. Telling them about the more disturbing aspects of templar life, lyrium and learning how to smite mages and such would just make them worry. And telling them about things like what had happened to Solona or about the harrowing would horrify them. He quickly abandoned the idea of letter writing and decided to head to the infirmary early. 

As he passed the First Enchanter’s office, he heard his name called out and immediately stopped and returned to the doorway. 

“Was there something you needed, First Enchanter?” He asked politely.

Carroll and a few other recruits were standing just down the hall and out of the corner of his eye he saw Carroll mouthing what he just said and making kissing faces. His companions started snickering. Cullen raised the hand hidden from Irving’s view and gave them the finger, and they burst out laughing.

“Come in my boy.” Irving invited.

Cullen quickly lowered his arm and entered the room.

“Am I right in assuming you’re heading towards the Infirmary?” Irving asked with a warm smile.

“Yes, ser.” 

The First Enchanter pushed himself stiffly up from his chair and walked around the desk, handing Cullen a note. “I was wondering if you might give this to Wynne. We’ve scheduled Solona’s evaluation for later this morning. Will you still be on duty then?” He asked.

Cullen was staring at the note in his hand. His heart was pounding uncomfortably and he realized he was nervous for her. “Yes, First Enchanter.”

“Good. Then you can bring her to the Harrowing Chamber when it’s time.” Irving started to return to his desk.

“Could I stay for it?” Cullen blurted out. “The evaluation I mean.” At the First Enchanter’s puzzled look he explained. “She might be less nervous if I were there. Solona might be. If someone she knew was there, I mean. She knows me.” His voice trailed off. Maker, he sounded like an idiot.

Irving considered the boy. It was customary for a templar or two to be present for the evaluation on the off chance that a young mage did lose control, and though the majority of the time their presence was more a formality than anything else, the templars present were always fully trained templars, never recruits. However, given what Solona had been through such templars might well frighten the girl, rendering the evaluation difficult if not impossible. “You’re fond of the child.” Said Irving, after a moment.

The boy blushed. “I’ve a brother and sisters of my own, First Enchanter. I wanted to join the templars, but I know how hard it is to leave your home.” Cullen wasn’t sure why he was telling Irving all of this. “She’s so little.” He added, trying to explain. “Young I mean. I just think my being there might help.” 

To his relief the First Enchanter seemed pleased by the answer. “I believe you might be correct, young Cullen. Yes, you can stay. I’ll clear it with the Knight Captain.”

Cullen smiled happily, a smile that lit up his whole face and reminded Irving of how young the boy was. “Thank you, ser.” He said and left the office. 

Carroll and the other recruits were still lingering in the hallway. Cullen ignored them. 

Carroll nodded at the note in Cullen’s hand as he walked by. “I see they’ve expanded your duties again. Nanny and messenger for the mages. You got it backward. It’s “magic is to serve man’ not “man is to serve magic’.” He guffawed at his own joke. 

“Aren’t you late for classes?” Cullen asked as he continued past them and down the staircase, bothering to respond to Carroll’s joke, if you could call it that. If you encouraged him, Carroll would go on and on, long after it had ceased to be entertaining. 

He found Ser Jeryn, the templar whom he was supposed to relieve, pacing to and fro outside the door of the infirmary. He practically jumped at Cullen’s offer to finish his shift, going so far as to tell him he was a good lad who showed a great deal of promise.

Wynne looked up when Cullen pushed open the door and smiled at him. “Good Morning, Cullen. You’re early aren’t you? I thought Ser Jeryn was going to be with us until after breakfast.” The man hadn’t actually deigned to remain in the infirmary, apparently less concerned with Solona’s safety than with the chance that she might escape the infirmary. Not that it had bothered Wynne in the least to leave him pacing out in the hall; it was far better than having him glowering inside the room.

“Good Morning, Senior Enchanter.” Cullen said with an awkward duck of his head. “A little early, yes. I hope that’s all right?” Before she could comment he handed her Irving’s note. “The First Enchanter asked if I’d give this to you.”

Wynne opened it and read it and then glanced at Cullen. “Solona’s going to have her magic evaluated today.” She informed him.

Cullen nodded. “The First Enchanter told me. He said I could escort her and stay for it.”

Well. Irving was certainly bending the rules with that decision, Wynne thought, wondering if the First Enchanter would tell Greagoir beforehand, or if he’d conveniently forget to mention it until after the evaluation was finished. Probably the latter, with a pleasant smile and a mild _‘that isn’t a problem, is it?’_ and Greagoir, not wanting to argue in front of whatever mages or templars were present, would no doubt grit his teeth and say _‘no, of course not’_. 

Irving was nothing if not adept at handling Greagoir. 

“I’m sure your being there will help her feel more at ease.” She told the boy. “I’d been meaning to commend you on the care you’ve taken with Solona. Most wouldn’t have taken the trouble.” Few recruits, or templars for that matter, would have bothered to show Solona the simple kindness that Cullen did. Wynne had even found him singing to child once when she’d woken crying and calling out for her mother. 

Cullen flushed, embarrassed at her words. He reached up his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s no trouble. I mean Solona’s no trouble, is she?”

“No. No, she isn’t any trouble.” Wynne agreed with a small frown. He was right. The child was no trouble, indeed Wynne sometimes forgot she was even in the infirmary. Solona was quiet and self-contained and solemn, far too solemn for a girl of five. She had been here for almost four days. There should have been some sign of willfulness, some reluctance to do as she was told at some point in that time but there hadn’t been: not even a protest when told it was bedtime. And with the exception of that night when she’d woken crying, there had been no tears either: nor had there been any smiles, or laughter, just that quiet obedience. 

It wasn’t natural. 

Cullen saw the frown. “Has something happened? Is Solona all right?” He looked around for the little girl. With his brother and sister you would simply have followed the noise, but not with Solona.

“She’s fine. See for yourself.” Wynne gestured to the desk at the far side of the room.

Solona sat, wearing the pinafore and white shirt that was the uniform for the youngest mages in the Circle, her long dark hair in two neat braids. The bruise on her face was almost unnoticeable from here. She seemed utterly absorbed in a book almost as big as she was.

This morning after she’d dressed she’d asked Wynne if she could look at some of the healing books. “I’m going to be a healer.” She’d said with a determination that was unnerving in so young a child. “I need to learn everything I can about it.” 

Seeing no harm in it, Wynne had pulled out a basic herbology book that was generously illustrated, and set her up at the desk. She didn’t have the heart to tell the girl that it took more than will to be a healer. What she’d done to the templars in Amaranthine had obviously spooked her badly, so badly that she was determined to reject her elemental talents. 

To her surprise Solona hadn’t merely looked at the pictures: she’d opened the book to the introduction, and started reading, actually reading the text. Occasionally Wynne had seen her frowning and carefully mouthing out a difficult word, but she hadn’t asked for help or expressed any frustration. 

If they hadn’t been told of her aristocratic background, reading at such a young age would have revealed it instantly. Her family had obviously had great plans for her, plans and hopes that they’d tossed away, just as they’d tossed her away. Wynne felt her temper rise. The child was intelligent, well-behaved, beautiful, and her family had thrown her out like yesterday’s kitchen waste, simply for showing her Maker-given talents. 

“She’s reading.” Cullen said in surprise interrupting Wynne’s thoughts. “She’s not just looking at the pictures, is she?”

“She’s reading.” Wynne confirmed. “There’s no need to tell her about the evaluation until just before it’s time go.” She told Cullen. “It will give her less time to be nervous.” 

At that moment Solona raised her head, saw Cullen, and her whole face lit up. “Cullen.” She breathed happily. She didn’t smile, not quite, but her pleasure in seeing him was plain. 

“Hello, Solona.” Cullen said, smiling as he walked over to her. “That’s an awfully big book.”

She looked down at it and nodded seriously. “Yes. I’m learning about healing plants. “ 

“Really?” Said Cullen, feigning surprise. “I didn’t know plants needed healing.” 

Solona blinked at him and then after a moment she giggled. 

Wynne, who had returned to her own desk, looked up in surprise at the sound, and then smiled in relief. So the child could still laugh. Thank the Maker. 

“You’re silly.” Solona informed him as he pulled up another chair and sat beside her. “I’m learning about plants that you can make into medicine to heal people. I’m going to be a healer.” She told him. 

“Are you now?” Cullen asked. 

She nodded earnestly. “Yes. I’m going to help people. I’m going to be a good mage, not the other kind.” She told him looking up at him with eyes that seemed far, far older than her years.

Wynne waited for Cullen’s reply.

“Of course you are. “ He told her, as if there could be no doubt. “What have you learned so far?” He asked her, looking at the book.

Solana began going on about elfroot and embrium, and the best way of preparing them for potions. To his credit, Cullen managed to seem fascinated, but Wynne was more impressed with just how much Solona had gleaned from the book in such a short time. It would be interesting to see the results of her evaluation. 

 

Shortly before it was time to leave, Wynne came over and explained to Solona where they were going and what would happen.

“Will it hurt?” Solona asked in a small voice.

“No, child.” Wynne assured her. “We’ll show you some magic and see if you can duplicate what we’ve done.” 

Solona was silent for a moment. “Will I be in trouble if I can’t?” 

“Of course not. Most mages show talent only in a single school of magic. The tests are simply to see where your talents lie. There’s no wrong answer.” 

The reply seemed to reassure her and she turned to Cullen. “Will you be there, too?” 

He smiled at her. He’d been right to ask Irving to accompany her. “I’ll be right there.” He promised.

She was very quiet as they made their way to the Harrowing Chamber, and when they reached the final staircase that led to it and she saw the fully armored templar standing guard there, she moved closer to Cullen, reaching up and slipping her hand into his. He looked down and gave her hand a small squeeze as they started up the stairs. As they entered the room she looked around at the stone walls and vaulted ceiling soaring up so high you could barely see the top, at the mages who were waiting, and the two imposing templars in full armor, with their helmets hiding their faces completely. She gripped Cullen’s hand even tighter as Wynne came over, holding out her own hand.

“Come, Solona.”

Solona turned her dark eyes to Cullen. 

“Go on.” He told her. “I’ll be right here.” 

She took Wynne’s hand and Cullen watched as they walked to the center of the chamber where the other mages were waiting. _Andraste, let it go well._

“Recruit Cullen. Step to the side of the chamber, if you would.” The voice was muffled by the helmet but he thought he recognized Knight Lieutenant Hadley’s voice, and it was clear from the tone that though he’d been given permission to be here the Knight Lieutenant didn’t exactly approve of it.. He immediately did as he was told.

The First Enchanter arrived and the evaluation began. 

Telling Solona to watch her carefully, Wynne summoned a wisp. After letting it drift around the room for a short while she banished it and then turned to Solona.

“Now, then. Did you notice anything when I did that?” She asked the child.

Solona nodded. “You pulled the tingle. You let it in and then pulled it close.”

The mages exchanged a look. It was a childish explanation of reaching for mana, but an accurate one. 

“And can you do that too?” Asked Irving. 

Solona glanced at the helmeted templars watching. “I don’t know ser. I can try.” She quickly added. 

Wynne tried not to smile at the child’s earnestness. There was little chance of her actually being able to summon a wisp but that wasn’t the point of the exercise. This was a test to see how easily the new mage could access both their mana and the Fade, and what kind of control they had over that ability. Both the mages and the templars in attendance would be able to gauge that pull, to see how strong the connection was. 

Solona was worrying her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Would you like to see me do it again?” Wynne asked.

Solona seemed relieved by the offer and nodded. 

Wynne repeated what she had done, and once the second wisp had been banished she turned back to the girl. “You try it now. “

Solona’s expression was serious as she raised her hand as Wynne had done. For a few seconds nothing happened and Solona closed her eyes. She tilted her head almost as if she was listening for something.

And then she smiled.

Cullen had been watching, and hadn’t sensed anything, but the templars beside him suddenly stood straighter. He looked at the mages and saw them exchanging pleased looks and realized Solona must have done something, something he didn’t yet have the training to recognize.

“That’s very good Solona.” Wynne said in an encouraging voice. She was about to tell the girl she could stop when Solona spoke.

“But they won’t follow me.” She said. Her eyes were still closed and her brows had drawn together in a small frown. She wiggled her small fingers as if beckoning something closer. 

And suddenly Cullen felt it, like a rush of wind, but it wasn’t air blowing towards him. _Magic_.

Wynne took a step towards Solona, but Irving put his hand on her arm and stopped. He was watching Solona intently. “Wait.” He said softly.

Solona’s mouth had curved into a smile again. “Come on. It’s all right. Come and play.” She said in a softly coaxing voice. 

The hair on Cullen’s neck stood on edge. There was no mistaking the magic now, it was shivering through the chamber. 

Solona’s eyes suddenly flew open and she laughed, a joyous sound, clear as a bell, that echoed through the stone chamber. There was a rush of light that swept out in a circle and then separated into different lights, wisps, four, five, no six of them. They returned to the little girl as she continued to laugh with delight. She spun in a circle, her hands lifted, and they followed, swirling around her as if they were, in fact, playing with her. 

Cullen had to still his rising panic and tried to remember what he’d learned about wisps. _A wisp is a demon that has lost its power; either it has existed in our world for too long without finding a true host or it has been destroyed._ They weren’t terribly dangerous but they could attack in groups. 

Six was definitely a group. 

The Knight Lieutenant stepped forward and Cullen saw him readying himself, preparing to smite Solona, and he took an automatic step towards her. 

A hand on his arm stopped him. “Don’t be a fool, boy.” The other templar hissed. “Let Hadley handle this.”

Wynne had noticed Hadley’s actions as well. “Irving?” It was a warning as much as a question.

Irving walked carefully towards Solona. “It’s fine, gentlemen. It’s all under control.” He said soothingly. As he moved closer to the little girl the wisps rushed in front of her as if protecting her and Irving stopped, a hands reach away from her. 

Protecting her? Cullen thought. That couldn’t be right, he must be imagining it. Wisps were demons. Nothing he had learned in his training had mentioned demons protecting mages. 

“That’s very good, Solona, but it’s time for them to go back now.” Irving was saying. “Can you do that? Can you send them back home?” 

“First Enchanter.” The Knight Lieutenant said in a warning voice.

Irving held a hand up to silence him.

The little girl had been staring at the lights with shining eyes but at Irving’s words she tore her gaze away. For a moment Cullen thought she might refuse, but then the solemn expression she’d worn since her arrival at the Tower returned. “Yes, ser.” She said obediently and turned back to the wisps. She made a small gesture. Time to go.” She said softly. “Go on. I can’t play anymore. It’s time to go home.”

They continued to swirl around her but slower now, moving closer to each other and slowly swirling back into one mass of light, but they didn’t dim or disappear. 

Solona turned to Irving. “They aren’t listening. They don’t want to go back. “ She sounded…perplexed. “Couldn’t they stay?” There was no fear in her voice at all. 

“First Enchanter….” Hadley said, more insistently this time. 

Irving ignored him and lowered himself down on one knee. “They aren’t meant to stay here. They need to go back.” He reached out and took Solona’s small hand in his. “We’ll do it together.” He told her in a calm voice. 

Solona looked at him and then gave a small nod. 

“Now, close your eyes.” Irving instructed and as soon as he saw she had, he closed his as well. “Do you still feel the tingle you talked about before?”

Solona tilted her head as if considering. “Yes, but it’s here not there.” She said. “Did I bring it here?” She sounded surprised.

Irving seemed pleased by the question. “I believe you did. It’s still there as well of course, but because the wisps have come to see you, it’s stronger here now.” He explained. “Now, I want you to imagine there’s a curtain, and their home is on the other side, but they can’t see it because the curtain is in the way: if you open the curtain for them they can go home. Can you do that?” 

Cullen watched as Solona move her hand as if she were pulling back a curtain. 

The wisps slowed, and drifted together again their combined light brighter than before. They drifted down towards the two figures and then stopped. The light seemed to pulse suddenly and the magic in the room pulsed with it. 

Solona frowned. “No.” She said in a firm voice. “You have to go home.”

There was a sudden rush and the wisps were gone. The magic was gone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hadley speak low to the other Templar, and then go quickly from the chamber.

Solona opened her eyes, and looked at Irving for his reaction.

Irving gave her a big smile. “Oh, well done, Solona! Very well done indeed.” 

She smiled back at him and then looked around the room. When she spotted Cullen she went running over to him and flung her arms around his knees. “Did you see? I did what they told me to! I made the lights come here and then I sent them home!” 

Cullen tried to hide the fact that his heart was still racing. Five years old. He thought. Only five years old. 

She saw him hesitate and her expression faltered and he forced himself to smile back at her and reaching out, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You did very well.” He told her. “I’m very proud of you.” He glanced over at the mages, who were conversing furiously and shooting glances at the little girl. Wynne called for Solona.

“Come Solona. There are still more tests to be done.” Indeed the mages were eager now to see what else this little girl could do. There were few fully harrowed enchanters who could do what she had just done.

Solona looked at Cullen.

“Go on.” He told her and she obediently ran to Wynne’s side.

The testing went on for another hour. The Knight Lieutenant returned with two more templars but as it turned out they weren’t needed. Solona showed skill and a control that was impressive. She met every challenge given; every challenge but one that was. Nothing and no one could convince her to demonstrate fire magic, not even when Irving enlisted Cullen’s assistance to persuade her. 

She’d shaken her head, tears welling up. “No ser.” She’d whispered again, and it was clear she expected some kind of punishment for her refusal, but still she refused.

“All right, Solona. We’ll let it go.” Irving said putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done very well. He glanced up as Greagoir entered the Chamber. “Ah, Greagoir. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Have you.” Said Greagoir dryly.

Irving’s eyes twinkled. “Indeed. Ever since Hadley sent word to you of Solona’s extraordinary gifts.” 

Greagoir’s eyes went to the little girl and she moved behind Cullen peeking out from behind his legs. “Gifts. Yes. Recruit Cullen. Please take the child back to the infirmary.”

“Yes, ser.” Cullen didn’t even think of questioning the order. He reached down and scooped the girl up and left. Her small arms wrapped around his neck and she seemed as willing to leave as he was.

Greagoir frowned after them and then turned back to the others. “Enchanter Wynne, a new mage has arrived who requires your attention. Everyone else can return to their duties.” To his annoyance the mages looked to Irving for confirmation. At Irving’s nod they left. 

As soon as they were gone Greagoir turned back to Irving. “She summoned demons from the Fade?”

“Wisps.” Irving pointed out.

“Six of them.” Retorted Greagoir. 

“And sent them back again.” Irving seemed thrilled. 

“If Hadley hadn’t sent word of it would you have even bothered to let me know?” 

Irving simply smiled. “I knew the good lieutenant would see that you knew.”

Greagoir gave a small grunt. “How powerful is she?” He asked.

“Very.” Irving said evenly. “In every school.”

Greagoir looked grim. “Perhaps we should see about transferring her to one of the other circles. Not Kirkwall, obviously. The White Spire, perhaps.”

“Where they’d crush her before there was a chance for her to reach her potential? You didn’t see it, Greagoir.” Irving sounded more excited than Greagoir had heard him sound in years. “The wisps focused entirely on her. She summoned them. She sent them back. When I approached her they came between us. I haven’t seen a connection to the spirits of the Fade like that in a very long time.”

Greagoir frowned as he realized what Irving was trying to tell him. “You think she could be a spirit healer.”

“I do.” He said triumphantly.

“No.” Greagoir shook his head. “The risk is too great. Perhaps if her talents were only in spirit magic, but you said she was equally strong in other areas. It would require one on one training. Who do we have willing to take on that sort of commitment and responsibility?”

“I'm willing to."

Greagoir stared at Irving in astonishment. “You?” He said at last. “You would take her on as an apprentice? You haven’t had an apprentice in more than a decade.”

“Closer to two.” Irving agreed. “But Solona Amell needs training, and we needs powerful mages who believe in the Circle. She’s young enough and powerful enough to be such a mage.” 

The Knight Commander seemed to consider what Irving had said. “All right. But I want regular reports. She will be carefully watched. And not by Cullen. It’s clear he’s grown too attached to her already.”

Irving was more than happy to accede to that point. “You may be right. Now tell me of this new arrival you mentioned to Wynne.” He walked towards the stairs and Greagoir came with him.

“A boy. Thirteen or fourteen years of age. Almost managed to escape on his way here. The templars smited him and he still had the strength to attack them, physically attack them, I mean. Foolish. What chance did he stand against four armored templars? They doused him with magebane, bandaged him up as best they could, and brought him here.” Greagoir shook his head. “He’s a tough one, I’ll give him that. A trait of the country, so I hear.”

“He’s not from Ferelden?” Irving asked.

Greagoir shook his head. “He’s from the Anderfels. We don’t even know his name. His paperwork merely said 'Anders'.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and other Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


	4. The Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona meets the Circle's newest arrival, a boy named Anders. A big thank you to Jumeyle who translate the 'Anderfels' for me.

They’d gone down two flights of stairs before Solona relaxed her hold on Cullen’s neck. “Is he mad at me?” She asked in a small voice.

Cullen shifted her in his arms so he could look at her. “The Knight Commander you mean?”

Solona nodded her head. Her dark eyes seemed even larger than usual. “Did I do something wrong?”

Cullen could only stare at her for a moment as he tried to figure out how to answer the question.

_You’re too powerful and your magic is too strong for such a little girl and it frightens people._

How to say that to a five year old, a five year old who’s been taken away from everything she knows and loves because of that same magic? Spying an empty meeting room Cullen led her to it, away from the doorway, so that no one would interrupt them. He crouched down in front of her. 

“You heard the First Enchanter say that you’d done very well, right?”

She nodded but seemed unconvinced. 

“You did do very well, but you also showed everyone that your magic is strong, and that…” He almost said _frightens_ but caught himself in time. “…worries people.”

Her lower lip trembled. “Because magic is bad.”

“No.” He said firmly. “It’s not bad but sometimes it’s dangerous. That’s why you were sent here, to learn how to control it so that you aren’t dangerous.”

“I don’t want to be dangerous. That’s why I didn’t do the fire.” The tears that had been threatening ran down her cheeks. 

He took her hand in his. “I know that, and so do the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander, but they watch over a lot of people and it’s their job to worry and be careful. And it’s your job to listen to your teachers and learn everything you can about your magic so that you control it, and not the other way around, right?” 

She nodded, but the joy and excitement she’d shown in the Harrowing Chamber were gone. She was solemn once more. 

Cullen pulled out a handkerchief and was wiping her face when he heard the noise: footsteps running down the hallway, and a dimmer noise, harsh voices shouting and more footsteps, and the metallic clang of armor coming closer. 

“Don’t move.” He told Solona, and went towards the door to see what was happening.

Before he could reach it, a boy came charging into the room and shut the door falling to his knees on the floor beside it, gasping for breath. 

He didn’t notice them at first and Cullen had a chance to get a look at him.

He was younger than Cullen, at that awkward age where limbs were suddenly too long and knobby wrists and ankles stuck out of sleeves on shirts and the legs of pants. Cullen had only recently come out of it himself. But this boy seemed thinner than he should be, undernourished, and looked as if he hadn’t washed in days, if not longer. His blonde hair hung lankly to his shoulders. His face was badly bruised, worse than Solona’s had been when she’d arrived: one eye was swollen almost shut and his lip was split and puffy. His knuckles were split, bruised and bleeding and the sleeve of his jacket was torn as if someone had grabbed at it.

The smell of magebane hit Cullen’s nose and he realized this must be the new mage the Knight Commander had spoken of. 

He moved forward, giving Solona her first clear look at the boy, and she gave a small gasp.

The boy whirled around and lifted his hands in front of him, pointing towards them, and Cullen felt that same prickle he’d felt in the Harrowing Chamber. Magic. Reeking of magebane like that and he could still pull his magic? 

“Easy there.” He said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. He felt anything but calm. Yes he knew the exercises and the prayers to summon a smite, but he’d never actually smited anyone or anything. “No one wants to hurt you.” With relief he heard the templars directly outside the door and immediately shouted. “He’s in here!” 

The door was thrown open and three templars charged in. The boy scrambled away from them, ending up in the far corner of the room. Realizing his mistake, he let out a frustrated cry, and began pacing back and forth like a trapped animal. 

Cullen was closest to him now and he repeated what he’d said, holding his hands up, hoping the boy would understand his intentions were good at least. “No one wants to hurt you.” 

“He only speaks Anderfels.” One of the other templars informed him. “Didn’t even understand enough common to tell the Templars his name."

Cullen felt that prickling again, saw the boy’s hands begin to glow blue. He forced himself to ignore the fear. What spell was he readying? Blue. That meant ice. Winter’s Grasp, maybe? Surely he was too weak for Cone of Cold? He raised his eyes to the boy’s face again: his eyes were burning with hatred. Cullen’s heart began to pound. 

There had been a visiting templar a few weeks earlier, brought in to lecture, who who’d told the recruits that while most mages were willing to live in the Circles and follow the laws that Andraste herself had established regarding men and magic, there would always be those few who didn’t. Those who thought the rules were wrong and shouldn’t apply to them. Those who wanted to cause trouble. Sometimes they’d hide their feelings, sometimes they wouldn’t bother, but either way, those images were trouble. _The longer you’re a templar the easier you’ll see it_ , the man had said. _Eventually you’ll be able to sense it the very first time you look at a mage._

Cullen had dismissed the idea, feeling vaguely depressed by the notion that someone this high up in the Order would believe that, but looking at this boy’s hate filled eyes that was his first thought.

Trouble. 

This mage would be trouble. Cullen knew it instinctually. He didn’t let on that he’d noticed what the mage was doing just continued to speak in a calm voice. “Just relax, boy.” He saw resentment flare in those light brown eyes and felt the pull grow stronger. 

“It’s no good, lad.” Said one of the helmeted templars. The ‘lad’ let him know it was Ser Jeryn. “You know what needs to be done. Go on. You found him. It’s a good training opportunity.” 

_Training opportunity_. Cullen suddenly felt vaguely nauseated. The blue of the boy’s hand was getting stronger, brighter. He’d have to do it. Smite him. He let himself go still and calm in preparation, and began the prayer that let him access those powers.

Solona saw his lips moving and realized what he was about to do. She grabbed his arm. ”No!” She shouted.

Cullen looked down at her in surprise. “Solona!”

She had tears in her eyes. “Don’t do it. Don’t do the smite thing.” 

Cullen glanced at the boy. Solona’s shout seemed to have surprised him as well and he had stopped pulling his magic. “It’s all right Solona.” He told her. Maybe it would be. 

“No! Don’t do it ser, he’ll be good, he just doesn’t understand. I’ll show him how.”

The templars, some of whom hadn’t even realized she was there, stared at her in astonishment as she ran to stand in front of the boy, holding out her small arms as if to shield him.

“Solona, move away from him.” Said Cullen carefully. “He’s dangerous.” 

She shook her head. “No. You’ll do the smite thing. You’ll hurt him.”

“Move mage!” One of the helmeted Templars shouted.

She flinched and tears filled her eyes. “No. He’s not a bad boy. He’s just scared and he misses his Mama.” The tears ran over. “He doesn’t mean to be bad."

As if to prove her wrong the boy suddenly shoved her hard right at Cullen and made a dash for the door only to find his way blocked by the other templars. Cullen could feel the magic; feel the boy trying and the feel the drop in temperature. His hands flared blue again.

Solona screamed at the sight, but instead of staying where she was she rushed right at the boy, batting at his hands, shrieking, “No! Stop it. You have to be good! He’ll be good, he will! He just doesn’t understand. I’ll teach him. I’ll make him listen.”

With an outraged roar the boy pushed her again, at the templars this time. 

Ice shot out from his hands and almost simultaneously, before Cullen or any of the templars could react in any way, Solona had scrambled to her feet in front of the templars and fire was shooting out of her hands, both her hands. 

The two spells met in midair with a loud crack and hissing and suddenly the room was filled steam and water and flame and ice. 

Cullen felt Ser Jeryn let out a powerful smite and when the steam had cleared both young mages were lying limp on the ground. 

 

Solona was woken by shouting.

“Is this how all new mages are going to be brought to the Tower now? Beaten, and drugged and rendered almost unconscious by a smite?” 

It was Enchanter Wynne.

Solona slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She was back in the infirmary again. She didn’t remember coming back here. She remembered the boy and trying to keep him from getting into trouble. 

“I can hardly be held responsible for the condition in which unknown mages are brought to us!” A man’s voice shouted back at her. 

The Knight Commander. 

“No, you just want to keep the same abused mage doused with magebane.” Wynne snapped back.

“Would you rather he be constantly smited?” Greagoir shouted. “As long as he’s a danger to others his magic needs to be contained somehow. Shall I leave the decision to you?” 

Solona tried to sit up and Wynne was beside her instantly. 

“Lie still, child. You need to rest.” She looked carefully at the girl. She seemed a bit pale, but otherwise unharmed. “How do you feel?”

“Did I hurt anyone?” Solona asked in a worried voice. 

Wynne’s face softened. “No child. You didn’t hurt anyone. In fact you what you did might very well have stopped people from getting hurt.”

Solona looked around the room but didn’t see Cullen. “Is Cullen all right?”

“Cullen is fine.” Wynne assured her. “Just not on duty right now.” The boy had been almost frantic when he’d burst into the infirmary carrying Solona. Wynne had sent him back to the templar dormitories with a potion to help him sleep, and instructions to rest and get a good night’s sleep. 

“Cullen let his concern for this mage interfere with carrying out his duties.” Greagoir said angrily, though in truth he was more concerned about how the other boy, the mage, had managed to elude templars and mages both, and escape from the infirmary in the first place. Another one they’d need to watch. All the same, the sooner Cullen went back to his training the better. The reports from Ser Jeryn and Hadley only confirmed what he’d thought earlier. The boy was getting far too attached to this little girl. This mage. He corrected. That could only lead to trouble.

Wynne glared at him. “And we wouldn’t want templars being concerned for the mages in their care now, would we?” She retorted.

Solona’s eyes were huge. Enchanter Wynne was yelling at a templar, and not just any templar but the Knight Commander. She watched warily as Greagoir’s brows came together in a frown, but before he could respond Irving and another mage Solona hadn’t seen before came out from the back room. The other mage was holding a stack of ragged clothes. 

“Just put those by the door.” Wynne told him. “You can take them to be burned with the waste when you leave, the boy shouldn’t be left alone.”

The mage did as she asked and then returned to the back room. Wynne turned to Irving. “Did we learn his name?”

“No.” Said Irving. “Either he doesn’t understand us or he simply doesn’t want to tell us. The templars who brought him in were calling him Anders. We may as well use that for now. I’ll make some inquiries; there must be someone in the Tower who speaks at least a bit of Anderfels.” His face lit up when he saw Solona was awake and he came and sat on the edge of her bed. “Solona Amell. I hear you decided to show us your fire spell after all.” He said, his eyes twinkling. 

Solona looked as if she might burst into tears. “I’m sorry, ser.”

Irving patted her hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. From what I hear it was quite impressive and you saved those templars from possible injury, isn’t that right Knight Commander?” 

Greagoir gave a small grunt, but his scowl stayed firmly in place. 

Irving continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed. “You were very brave as well. But from now on I think we should let templars handle such things, don’t you?” 

She nodded with relief. “Yes, ser.”

“Now I was speaking with Wynne and we were thinking, you were so brave and did so well in your evaluation that perhaps we’d let you move to the dormitories with the other children tomorrow. Would you like that?”

A chance to make friends with other children who were like her, who had magic. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “Yes, ser.”

“Good.” Irving pushed himself to his feet. “May I have a word with both of you outside?” He asked Greagoir and Irving.

Solona watched as the three adults left the room and when the door closed behind them her eyes fell on the pile of clothes by the door.

They weren’t very nice clothes. Rough and worn, and very dirty, and the jacket was torn and bloody. She tilted her head and frowned. It looked like something was sticking out of the pocket though, something that didn’t look like clothes. A bit of linen that looked like it had red embroidery on it.

Maybe it was something the boy wanted. Maybe it was something his mama had given him to remember her. 

She cast a nervous glance at the door. If she didn’t take it then it would be burned with the rest of his things. 

_Do as the Templars tell you and be a good girl._

They hadn’t told her not to touch his things, she reasoned. She climbed out of the bed and padded barefoot to the door, Reaching down she pulled whatever it was free of the jacket’s pocket and unfolded it. It was a pillow case and the red was embroidery; a string of elaborate letters. She traced her fingers over them sounding the word out. It was a name. It must be his name, she decided. She heard someone at the door and ran quickly back to her bed just as the door opened, scooting underneath the cover and shoving the bit of linen under her pillow, feeling very pleased with herself. 

Maybe he would feel better once he had it back. 

The boy was given another dose of magebane before bed. It took two Templars restraining him for Enchanter Wynne to be able to get him to drink it. Once the templars released him he turned his face to the wall ignoring them all. 

It was late now. Wynne had gone. There was another healer on duty sitting at the desk in the far corner of the room, completely absorbed in the book she was reading. The templar who was supposed to be guarding the boy, a very grumpy man named Drass, who had been complaining about having night duty had fallen asleep and was snoring in his chair.

Solona slid out of her bed, tiptoeing carefully past the sleeping templar. The boy was still facing the wall.

“Boy?” She whispered. “Are you awake?” There was no sound from the bed. Maybe she could just leave it there. She crept closer and tried to tuck it under his pillow without disturbing him and gave a small cry when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“What are you doing?” The boy snarled. He still looked unwell. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin had a sickly tinge to it. 

“I just wanted to give you something.” She tried to explain.

His eyes burned with resentment. “I don’t want anything from you. If it hadn’t been for you I would have made it. I would have escaped.” He knew the claim was false, but he didn’t care. 

She looked horrified. “You mustn’t say such things. Magic is bad. We have to stay here so we don’t hurt people.” 

The boy looked disgusted. “Well aren’t you the perfect little trained monkey.” 

Solona scowled at him. “I’m not a monkey.”

He seemed pleased to have gotten a rise out of her. “Yes, you are. A little trained monkey with your templar keeper. Does he train you to do tricks? He didn’t look smart enough.”

Her mouth went into a thin straight line. “Don’t you say mean things about Cullen! He’s my friend!”

“You stupid girl. Haven’t you learned yet? You’re a mage: mages and templars can’t be friends. Templars are just keepers. Keepers for little trained monkeys like you.” 

Solona was trembling with outrage. “You’re a horrid boy and I don’t like you!“ She announced. She threw the pillowcase at him and it hit him in the face. “I should have let them burn it with the rest of your things.” She turned and stalked away. She’d almost reached the door when she heard the noise.

Soft muffled sobs. She turned around and blinked in astonishment. He was clutching the pillowcase to his face and his whole body was shaking. 

He was crying.

She quickly returned to the bed and reaching out a tentative hand stroked his hair. When he didn’t object she continued doing it. “Don’t cry. Your Mama’s thinking about you, and whenever you hold your pillowcase she’ll know you’re thinking about her too. It’s all right. I’ll be your friend. Don’t cry.”

It was only after he’d fallen asleep and she'd snuck back into her own bed that she remembered something that made her eyes fly open: he’d spoken to her, and not in Anderfels.

 

Wynne was sitting at her desk the next morning, completing her report on the boy, Anders as they were calling him, when the infirmary door opened.

“Hello Wynne. I hear you’ve got one of my countrymen here. Irving tells me you could use a translator.” 

Wynne looked up and smiled. “Karl.” She said with genuine pleasure. “I’d forgotten you were from the Anderfels.” Karl Thekla was a likeable young man in his early thirties, though he was already going grey, and one of the few mages who was as enthusiastic as she was about the importance of mentoring the apprentices. He was well liked by all, mages, apprentices, and templars. 

He laughed, a warm friendly sound. “I haven’t been there since I came to the Circle when I was eleven, so my Anderfels is rusty at best, but it might be good enough put our young rebel a little more at ease.”

“Our rebel?” Wynne repeated with a frown.

Karl’s eyes twinkled. “His arrival’s made quite an impression on the other apprentices.” He informed her. “He went charging through the dormitories when he was looking for a way out, casting spells left and right. Is his magic as impressive as they say?” 

“From what I’ve heard probably more so.” Wynne said dryly. _Our rebel_. No wonder Greagoir was so adamant that he be kept under control. “I don’t think he’s going to have an easy time of it.”

Karl’s smile disappeared. “Then the sooner we get him used to the idea the better. He’s in the other room?” 

“He’s a good boy, ser.”

Karl looked down in surprise at the little girl who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He crouched down next to her so they were at eye level. She was a beautiful child, he thought with a pang of regret, with large dark eyes and a rosebud mouth. She’d attract unwanted attention when she was older. “And who are you?” He asked with a kind smile.

Her eyes were huge in her face. “Solona Amell, ser.” 

She was so young. He looked up at Wynne. 

“Solona is our newest mage – or rather she was until the arrival of your countryman.”

Karl looked back at the little girl. “Hello, Sweetheart. My name’s Karl. Welcome to the Circle. So you think he’s a good boy?”

She nodded earnestly. “Yes, ser. He’s just scared and he misses his home.” 

Karl nodded. “It must be scary to be away from everything he knows.”

“It is. “ She hesitated, and her full upper lip trembled, a little. “I think he misses his Mama too.” 

Karl’s smile was gentle. “Of course he does. It’s the most natural thing in the world to miss your Mama. Do you know what? I still sometimes miss mine and I’m a grey haired old man.”

Her hand went to the Andraste charm around her neck. “Does she know where you are?” 

How to answer the question. “She knows that I love her and I know she loves me.” Karl said finally.

The child nodded, seeming to accept the idea and Karl straightened up again. “I’ll go in and see what I can find out." He told Wynne.

The boy was sitting cross legged on the bed and Karl looked him over as he walked closer, taking in the bruises, and the slightly glassy eyes. Irving had told him of the decision to keep the boy doused with magebane. Better than the alternative but hardly ideal. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.

“Hallo. Mein Name ist Karl. Karl Thekla. Mir wurde gesagt, dass du aus Anderfels stammst. Ich bin dort zwar geboren, aber ich habe viele Jahre nicht mehr dort gelebt und auch lange die Sprache nicht mehr gesprochen. Bitte entschuldige, falls ich Fehler machen sollte. _(Hello. My name is Karl, Karl Thekla. They tell me you're from the Anderfels. I was born there, though I haven't lived there in many years and haven't spoken the language in quite some time. I apologize for any mistakes I make.)_

The boy looked alarmed and then wary. He didn’t say anything.

“Willst du mir deinen Namen verraten?” _(Can you tell me your name?)_

The boy looked away. He seemed almost agitated.

What in the Maker’s name had they done to him? “ Keine Angst. Du bist hier sicher. Es gibt natürlich Regeln, aber wenn du sie lernst und befolgst, wirst du keine Probleme haben.” _(It's all right. You'll be safe here. There are rules of course, but if you learn them and follow them you'll be fine.)_

There was still no reaction, almost as if the boy didn’t understand what he was saying. He frowned wondering if perhaps there had been a mistake. Perhaps it wasn't Anderfels he spoke. Or maybe… He gave the boy a big friendly smile. “Du solltest vorsichtig sein und die pinken und lilanen Drachen nicht belästigen während sie die Unterkünfte säubern. Und frag die Greifen niemals, ob sie ihre Nachspeise noch vorhaben zu essen. Sie heben sie sich für später auf, in Ordnung?” _(Just be careful not to disturb the pink or purple dragons when they're cleaning the dormitories. And never ask the griffons if they're going to eat their dessert. They like to save it for later, right?)._ He looked expectantly at the boy. 

The boy looked panicked for a moment and then he smiled back and nodded. 

_Maker's tits._ Karl thought to himself, _you clever boy_. He continued to smile at him. “Du versteht kein einziges Wort, nicht wahr?” _(You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?)_ He said and shook his head.

After a moment the boy shook his head as well. 

“Du hast sie alle hereingelegt. Du bist gar nicht aus Anderfels, nicht wahr?” _(You've been fooling them all. You aren't from the Anderfels at all, are you?)_

After a moment of hesitation the boy shook his head again. 

Karl had to admit to a growing admiration for him. He stood up from the chair and patted the boys shoulder and started to turn as if he was leaving and then frowned. “You’ve got a bit of dirt on your forehead that you might want to wipe off before the others come in.” He said. 

The boy’s hand immediately went to his forhead and he froze. 

Karl sat back down. “My name’s Karl. I’m one of the mages here.”

The boy had dropped his hands into his lap. He looked utterly defeated.

“They’ve been calling you Anders. Is that what you want to be called?” He asked gently.

“It’s not my name.” The boy said after a moment. He was quiet again and suddenly blurted out. “They’ve taken everything else. I didn’t want to give them my name too.”

Karl nodded. “Then we’ll call you Anders. Welcome to Kinloch Hold, Anders. I imagine you probably have some questions.” 

 

They sent Cullen to escort Solona to the dormitories. She didn’t smile when she saw him and was quiet as they walked down the hallway. He finally stopped when they were in the library. “Is everything all right?”

She looked up at him with those big dark eyes. “Is it true that mages and templars can’t be friends?”

Cullen could only stare at her. “No.” He admitted finally. “Not really. Not apprentices and recruits anyway.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“That doesn’t mean that we can’t be.” He said quickly.

“Yes it does. I told Mama I’d be good. We aren’t supposed to be friends.” She started crying.

She was so upset that Cullen knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his. “We are friends.” He told her. And strangely it felt true. “We are friends.” He repeated.

She gave a little hiccup, but the tears stopped. “Maybe when we’re big we could be real friends.” She said tentatively. 

It would probably be even more disapproved of then. He didn’t say that though. “Yes.” 

He saw her hand go up to the Andraste charm that he’d given her. “Maybe when I touch this it won’t mean that just Mama is thinking of me. Maybe it could mean that you’re thinking of me too.” 

She sounded so hopeful. “Yes. It can.” He told her.

She flung her arms around his neck. “And it’ll mean I’m thinking of you too.” She told him. 

 

He brought her to the dormitory for the youngest children, turning her over to the mage in charge. 

He was about to say good bye to her when a small boy came running up to them. He had dark hair and blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes, and a winning smile. A charmer, his mother would have said. “You’re new." The boy said. "Do you want to be my friend?” 

Solona nodded shyly. 

Cullen started to leave hoping she wouldn't notice, but she did of course. 

She gave him a sweet smile but didn't say anything, just reached up and touched the Andraste charm.

Cullen returned the smile and left the room. 

The little boy who had been talking to her grabbed her hand. “What’s your name?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “My name’s Jowan. Come and play!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


	5. Becoming a Templar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is informed that the date for his Vigil, and the taking of his final vows as a Templar has been set. Solona and Anders offer their congratulations with varying degrees of sincerity.

There was a routine to life in the Circle, for both templars and mages, and for the most part the routine didn’t vary at all. Time seemed as if it went by slowly but then you woke up one morning and suddenly realized that years had passed. Or at least that’s what it seemed like for Cullen when Greagoir called him to his office one morning and informed him that the date had been set for his Vigil.

Which meant the date had been set for him to take his final Vows. After all this time, after all his hard work, he would be a fully-fledged templar. 

“Are you certain?” Cullen asked before he could stop himself. It seemed impossible that he had been at Kinloch Hold long enough for that, that he had completed all the requirements necessary, that the dream he’d had since childhood was actually going to happen.

The Knight Commander had raised an eyebrow and at first Cullen had worried he was angry but then he realized the man was trying to hide a smile. “Yes, Recruit Cullen, I’m certain. Let me be the first to offer my congratulations.”

He’d left Greagoir’s office in a bit of a daze. 

Word spread quickly through the Tower and Cullen found himself receiving congratulations from templars and mages alike: he took pleasure in that. He’d worked hard to keep the promise he’d made the day Solona had arrived at the Tower. He’d made every effort to treat the mages no differently from anyone else in so far as that was possible. He treated the apprentices kindly and made a point of learning their names and using them rather than just referring to them as ‘Apprentice’ or ‘Mage’, and he showed the harrowed mages the respect he felt they had earned and deserved. 

Not all of his fellow templars approved. He’d been teased by the recruits and received lectures from some of the more senior templars, but he hadn’t let that stop him. Mages were the Maker’s children as much as the Templars were, he believed that more than ever now and he’d found a great deal to admire in many of them. 

Not all of them of course. He couldn’t truthfully say that.

He was reminded of just that fact a few days later when he came down the staircase from the Templar floor heading to the library where he was on duty for the remainder of the evening. He was making his way past classrooms that were supposed to be empty at this time of day when he heard…sounds. 

A girl’s giggle and a man’s voice speaking low, and then a sudden squeal, more giggles and then moaning. 

Cullen’s cheeks flared with heat. _Maker’s Breath_ , he thought, crossing to the door of the room the sounds were coming from.

“We can’t.” He heard the girl whisper as he came closer. 

“Of course we can, Sweetheart.” Came an all too familiar voice. “Look, I’ll show you. You see, this goes here. And if you just lift this…” 

There was more laughter, another squeal, and another moan from the girl this time. 

“You see. I told you we could.” The man’s voice was pitched lower now. There was a sound of furniture rhythmically shifting back and forth, scraping on the floor, and then the girl cried out the man’s name.

“Oh, Anders…” 

_That was quite enough of that _, thought Cullen, his cheeks burning now as he realized what had been making the furniture move. And he’d just stood there listening like some kind of… He pounded on the door with his gauntleted fist. “Out of there, both of you!”__

There was frantic whispering and other sounds and just as he was about to start pounding again, the door opened revealing Anders and one of the older apprentices, a girl named Tana, who, with her big blue eyes, and surprisingly voluptuous figure for one so young, had been a topic of more than a few lewd comments in the recruit dormitories of late. 

Cullen always did his best to ignore those conversations. 

Tana was frantically trying to pin up her curly blonde hair and looked frightened. Anders seemed bored and vaguely irritated. 

Looking at him Cullen couldn’t help comparing him to the gangly bruised and beaten boy he’d been the day he arrived at the Tower. You’d never know they were the same person. He’d grown tall, taller than Cullen by several inches. His hair was still the same golden blonde, longer now, reaching to his shoulders, and his features were more defined, his cheekbones, and brow were those of an adult, and from the gushing whispers Cullen overheard while on duty, he was considered handsome, but the real change could be found in his demeanor: the furtive, suspicious fugitive he’d been when he’d arrived had vanished long ago. He was confident now, over-confident, in fact. Anders walked around the Tower like he owned the place, like he hadn’t a care or worry in the world. In addition to his good looks, he was clever, and charming, born with what Cullen’s mother called a silver tongue. He teased and flirted with an ease that Cullen was forced to admit he envied at times: old or young, male or female, mage or templar, it seemingly made no difference to the man.

Cullen himself was anything but glib, he never had been and he was beginning to suspect he never would be. He became tongue-tied and awkward in social situations and more often than not ended up stammering like an idiot. Fortunately for him, social situations for a templar recruit were far and few between. 

Anders was ignoring him now, holding his hand out in front of him as if appraising his fingernails. 

Tana’s eyes were darting nervously back and forth between the two men. 

Cullen decided to ignore Anders, and focused on Tana. “Apprentices are not allowed on this floor unsupervised, Tana.” He told her sternly. 

Before he could tell her to return to the lower floors, Anders, still not looking up from his nails interrupted him. “But she’s not unsupervised, is she? She’s with a fully harrowed mage.” He said, finally looking up at Cullen with a smirk.

Cullen couldn’t keep from scowling. As if he could have forgotten that. 

Anders had been harrowed two months earlier when he’d been brought back to the Tower after his third escape attempt. 

His third, mind you.

His first had been made scarcely six months after his arrival at the tower, and his second less than a year later. There had been no attempts for several years after that and so his third attempt had surprised everyone. He’d managed to elude the templars for almost a fortnight before he’d been caught at a tavern near Redcliffe. He’d been harrowed just days after he’d been returned to Kinloch Hold, and Cullen suspected it had been a punishment of sorts, though no one had said the words out loud, but what better way to punish a reckless mage than by forcing him to acknowledge that the dangers he risked on a daily basis unsupervised were far worse than a templar’s sword? There was a reason for the rules and restrictions placed on mages. No doubt both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander had intended to teach Anders that lesson once and for all. 

It hadn’t worked of course. 

Cullen hadn’t been present at Anders’ harrowing, but he’d heard the tale of it from someone who had. It had been a quick, seemingly effortless, and while most mages needed at least some time to recover, and a few were even briefly rendered unconscious by the ordeal, Anders had opened his eyes and practically sauntered out of the Chamber even stopping to flirt with the templar who’d been assigned to cut him down should he have succumbed to the demon, leering at the man and telling him, “Maybe you’ll get another chance to show me how good you are with your weapon.” 

His reputation as an impressive mage, an undisputed troublemaker and an incorrigible flirt had only grown since then.

Cullen didn’t know how he got away with the things he did, or rather he did, but he didn’t approve of it. It wasn’t Anders’ charm that kept him safe: ironically enough it was his talent as a mage, for Anders, like Solona, was a spirit healer. 

The First Enchanter had been almost beside himself when that had been discovered. 

Yes, thought Cullen, his nostrils flaring with annoyance as he glared at the man. That ability had earned Anders a lot of leeway when it came to breaking the rules. It probably would have done the same for Solona had she ever broken the rules, but she didn’t. Solona Amell followed the rules to the letter. She never put a toe wrong, Cullen thought with no little pride. She was a mage to look up too, not this … rebel. The nickname he’d earned that first day was still in use all these years later. He was almost a legend in the Tower.

“No I hadn’t forgotten.” He informed the man in front of him. “And as a fully harrowed enchanter you know very well that this sort of thing is not permitted.”

Anders just lounged against the frame of the door. He turned his head to look over should into the classroom behind him and then slowly turned back to Cullen with his eyebrow raised. “And just what is it you think we were doing in there?” 

Cullen felt his cheeks grow hot. “You know very well what you were doing.” He snapped.

Anders gave him a wide-eyed stare. “I’m afraid I don’t, old chap.” He said apologetically. “Perhaps you could elaborate?” 

“You were…you…” Cullen couldn’t seem to get the words out and Anders began to grin at his discomfort. Even Tana’s worried expression had vanished and she looked very much like she was trying not to smile.

_Maker’s Breath. How on Thedas had this gone so horribly wrong?_

“There you both are. I’d said we were meeting in the library, not up here.” 

All three of them turned to see Karl Thekla striding towards them. 

“They aren’t in any trouble are they?” He asked Cullen with an easy smile. “I’m sure it was a simple mix-up.” He said turning his eyes to Anders. “Young Anders has tendency to not pay attention to what he’s told, I’m afraid.” The easygoing demeanor vanished as he spoke, and to Cullen’s surprise Anders’ confident smirk wavered and for the first time he looked uncertain. 

When he saw Cullen was looking the smirk reappeared immediately, but Cullen had learned something from that brief exchange, something that might be important in the future: Karl Thekla’s opinion matter to Anders. It came as something of a surprise. Cullen hadn’t thought Anders cared about anyone's opinion. 

Cullen knew of course that Karl was covering for the two younger mages. There had been no mix up of locations, there had been no meeting planned. He knew that and really he should report all three of them for it. 

In the end it was the plea in Tana’s eyes that made him sigh and shake his head. “No. They aren’t in any trouble.” 

He almost wished he could take it back when he saw Ander’s smug expression. All he could do though was scowl at him, and add. “Provided of course that Young Anders learns to listen better in the future.”

Anders turned innocent eyes to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” 

“I said…” Cullen began to repeat. He saw Anders unrepentant grin and his scowl deepened. “If you’ll excuse me.” He muttered and turned towards the stairs. 

“Cullen.” Karl called after him. “Would you mind escorting Tana down to the apprentice’s quarters? I know for a fact she has studies to attend to and as she seems to have forgotten her books, she’ll need to stop there and retrieve them before she begins the essay I’ve assigned her.” He said with a stern look at the girl. “Five hundred words on the benevolent spirits of the Fade on my desk first thing in the morning.” 

Tana was nervous enough now that she simply nodded.

Cullen’s first impulse was to refuse Karl’s request, but Maker knew none of this was Tana’s fault. “Of course. Come along, Tana.” 

With one last longing glance at Anders, who was looking at Karl now, and didn’t even seem to notice the girl was still there, Tana followed him.

“Cullen.” Karl called out again.

Cullen turned, a little more impatiently this time. 

Karl smiled at him. “I haven’t yet offered my congratulations on the news you’ll be taking your vows. Congratulations. It’s well deserved.”

Cullen felt some of his frustration dissipate. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to say so.” 

“Not at all. There should be more Templars like you.” 

Anders gave a small snort, which Cullen found he could ignore. Karl’s words had reminded him that what he was doing was important, no matter how much Anders might sneer. “Thank you.” He said again, and indicating that Tana should precede him, they continued around the hallway to the staircase.

As soon as they were out of sight Karl pushed Anders none too gently into the empty classroom and shut the door. He stared at Anders, grim-faced, without speaking, for so long that Anders began to laugh.

“What did I do?” He asked innocently.

“The fact you have to ask that tells me that either you’re an idiot, or you think I am.” Karl lifted his hand to his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know where to start.” He muttered.

Anders moved so he was standing directly in front of the older man. “I can help you with that. I’ve found that if you move in close, and take the other person’s hand in yours…” He said reached down his hands caressing before he twined his his fingers through Karl’s. “And lean in close …” He whispered. He could feel the heat of Karl’s skin against his mouth and for just a moment he thought Karl was going to give in, finally, and his heart was racing in a way that it hadn’t been for Tana a few minutes ago. 

He’d been teasing Karl since he was a teenager, at first just for laughs and because he genuinely found him attractive, but lately because he couldn’t stop thinking about him, Karl who’d been his first friend in the Tower, Karl who knew all his secrets and all his fears. Karl who was, quite literally, the only person he could be himself with.

To his frustration Karl pulled his hands free and stepped back. “Stop it.” He told him sternly and stood there glaring at him again. 

Karl was cursing inwardly. He’d almost given in, had almost let Anders win the game the boy had been playing with him, Maker, for years now. Andraste help him. It had been far easier to resist Anders when he’d been a child and then a teenager, when he’d been one of his students. Those were lines Karl wouldn’t cross no matter how tempting Anders was, and he was truly tempting with his golden hair and teasing smile and most of all that irrepressible spirit and positively brazen attitude that he seemed to make no effort to conceal lately. 

But in spite of the fact he’d been harrowed, Anders still hadn’t grown up. “You are the most impossible boy.” He muttered looking away finally, and he meant it. 

Anders nostrils flared. “I’m not a boy!” He told him angrily. For years he’d been trying to get Karl to see that, but even now that he’d been harrowed and given the title of ‘Enchanter’, Karl still kept him at arm’s length.

“Well if that’s true then you are the most immature man I’ve ever met.” Karl informed him. “How old is Tana? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

What did Tana have to do with this? Anders wondered in confusion. “I honestly don’t know. Something like that. Old enough.”

And for the first time he saw something like contempt Karl’s eyes. 

“Old enough.” Karl repeated flatly. “Old enough to have sex in an unlocked classroom practically in front of the stairs to the templar quarters? Did you even consider that you might be overheard? Did it even occur to you that a templar might hear and investigate?” 

Anders crossed his arms and leaned against the desk looking mutinous. “Andraste’s Ass, Karl, it was just Cullen. Cullen’s not going to report anyone. He’s one of the ‘good ones’ remember?” He didn’t understand Karl’s admiration for Cullen. The man seemed like a wind-up toy to him. Turn his key and he’d go marching through the Tower being the perfect little templar.

“Yes.” Karl said. “He is. You were lucky. What do you think would have happened if it hadn’t been one of the good ones? To you? To Tana?” 

Anders flushed. As far as he knew there hadn’t been any incidents of that sort, he’d at least give Greagoir that point, but there were stories of other mages and other templars in other Circles, lots of stories, that kept the possibility of such incidents an ever present fear. “I wouldn’t let them do anything to Tana.” He told Karl.

“Really?” Said Karl. “And just how would you stop them? With your magic?”

Anders jaw clenched. “If need be.”

“Right. And once you’d been smited and were lying on the floor retching and probably wetting yourself who would help Tana then?”

Anders face went blank and then his mouth formed a thin line.

“Yes!” Karl exclaimed. “Finally, comprehension dawns. You lying there, incapacitated while Tana’s bent over a desk right in front of you. Do you think the templars are blind? Do you think she isn’t already being talked about?”

“I…” Anders started to say and then stopped because there wasn’t anything he could say.

Karl went on, relentless. “And do you think you’re safe from them? Do you think there aren’t templars out there who if they caught you with your robes around your waist and your smalls around your ankles wouldn’t do the very same to you? Do you think that because you’re a spirit healer, it’s some kind of protection against being caught unawares in a deserted classroom? Do you think your good looks are protection against a smite that can incapacitate you? Do you think your charm will keep you from the brand if you run off again and they decide you’re a maleficarum?” 

Anders was looking sullen. “Like you’d care.” He muttered, knowing it was an asinine response, and every bit as immature as Karl had implied he was.

To his utter astonishment Karl was suddenly there pushing him back against the wall, digging his hands into Anders unbound hair, hold his head firmly in place and kissing him in a way Anders had never been kissed before; there was nothing teasing or coy about this kiss, nothing at all gentle. This kiss was hard and insistent and Maker, it was passionate. It didn’t hold anything back and after only a second’s shocked hesitation and a small whimpered moan, neither did Anders. He thrust his tongue into Karl’s mouth, exploring, tasting, catching and sucking on Karl's tongue, marveling at the fact this was actually happening, Karl’s tongue caressing his, Karl’s beard and moustache tickling his lips and he pressed himself closer and smiled against Karl’s mouth when he felt the physical proof that Karl wanted him just as badly as he wanted Karl. “You do like me.” He murmured.

Karl pulled away, staring at him for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Anders’. “Yes, I do. But I’m not so much of a masochist that I’m going enter into a relationship with you only to have to stand there and watch as you destroy yourself.” He leaned forward and kissed him once more, gently this time, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of it before taking a step back. “So think about that for a day or two, and then find me and tell me what your decision is.” 

And he was gone before Anders had even quite registered what he had said.

 

Cullen put his helmet on before he stepped into the library. That was the rule. If you were on guard duty you wore your helmet. 

As soon as he’d relieved Carroll he looked around for Solona, as he always did when he was stationed in the library, and when he spotted her he smiled behind the helm.

She was there, at her usual table, her books open in front of her, and as usual Jowan was there with her. The two had been inseparable since the day they’d met. Solona didn’t seem to have any other close friends, but that was no doubt due to the time she spent at her studies and in the infirmary. Jowan wasn’t quite as charming or as good looking as he’d been when was small, but apparently he hadn’t been given that message for he still wheedled and begged and pouted the same way he had when he’d been six years old. Jowan’s books weren’t open. Indeed he seemed to be sleeping, his head propped up on his hand. Cullen ignored him and turned his attention back to Solona. 

Neat as a pin in her mage’s robe, the one she’d been given when she turned thirteen. She’d recently started coiling her long dark braid around her head like a coronet and it still looked odd to Cullen, like when his sister had dressed up in their mother’s clothes, a child playing at being a grown up. 

She raised her head suddenly and turned her eyes to where he was standing. He head tilted just slightly to one side and then a smile curved her lips. She reached up her hand and touched the Andraste medallion that she still wore.

Cullen didn’t know how she did it, how she managed to figure out it was him beneath the armor and the helmet, but every time he was on duty she just knew. That touch would be the only acknowledgement until she left or he was about to leave. Only then would she touch it again. They hadn’t really had a conversation since that day he’d brought her down to the dormitories, only polite greetings, occasionally he would help her reach a book high up on a shelf, or hold a door open, as he would for any of the mages and they would exchange a quiet ‘thank you’ or ‘you’re welcome’, but nothing more than that. 

An hour and a half later the library was much emptier. Most of the apprentices had returned to the dormitories. Only full mages and those truly devoted apprentices were left.

Solona was still there, of course. She would stay until the announcement was made for all apprentices to return to the dormitory. She always did, there at her table, her books spread out, taking copious notes, sometimes with a small frown between her brows as she concentrated on a particularly difficult subject.

Which was why Cullen was so surprised when she suddenly stood up and walked towards the restricted section, the section which housed the books on subjects like blood magic and the Tevinter imperium. Apprentices were only allowed back there with written permission from two senior enchanters, and the permission had to be shown to the templar on duty. 

Solona paused at the doorway, looked directly at him, touched the medallion and the disappeared inside. 

_Maker’s Breath. What was she thinking?_ Cullen looked quickly around. Neither of the other templars on duty appeared to have noticed. He forced himself to walk unhurriedly towards the door and stepped quickly inside. He’d actually never been in this section. It was larger than he thought and the realization wasn’t reassuring. What need was there for so many books on such dangerous subjects? “Solona?” He whispered loudly. “Solona?” 

“I’m back here.” Her voice came from the last aisle of shelves. Her voice was less childlike than he remembered it, and he wondered why that was surprising. Of course it would have changed, he just hadn’t realized it. 

He quickly walked to the last aisle, slipping his helmet off. “What are you doing back here?” He asked as he walked up to her. “You know you aren’t allowed to be here.” She’d grown he realized. She’d always been tall for her age, but she almost came to his shoulder now. 

She was staring up at him her lower lip caught between her teeth. The scar from the cut on her upper lip had never faded, but it only emphasized the fullness of the upper lip. She seemed as nervous as he was. “I know, but I wanted to talk to you, just for a minute.”

“And what if I hadn’t been the one to notice? Do you know what kind of trouble you’d be in?” 

She seemed puzzled by the question. “Of course you’d notice it first. You look out for me.” 

He did, he couldn’t deny it, any more than he could deny that Solona would only break the rules for something truly important. The thought brought a frown to his face. “What is it? Is something wrong? Has something happened?”

“No, nothing like that. I wanted to congratulate you about your Vigil.” She smiled suddenly, a true smile, one he’d only seen a handful of times since the day she’d been brought in. “I’m so proud of you, Cullen. You’re going to be a wonderful Templar. You already are.” 

He couldn’t help but be touched, but for her to have risked so much just to say that. “If I were truly a good Templar I’d be reporting you right now for being back here. You could have told me that in the main room.

She flushed at the reprimand. “I wanted to give you something, something I didn’t want other people to see.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a small glass vial that contained a potion he’d never seen before, violet, thick and viscous, almost opaque. “I made it for you.”

His frown only deepened. “What is it?”

“It’s called _venenum aulum_ ; it translates as 'poison’s ease', or something close to that.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes huge in her face. “The first dose of lyrium can be hard sometimes. There can be unpleasant side effects. Most templars try and tough it out, thinking they’ll be thought less of if they ask for any kind healing, and the awful thing is that they’re right. If you have any bad side effects take this. There are four doses in there. Don’t take more than two doses a day. The second philter is usually easier, your body’s already adjusted from the first dose, but if you do need more just ask and I’ll make you some.” 

He’d heard of it, not by name, but that there was something the healers could give you that would help, but she was right, new templars were expected to just tough it out and looked down upon if they failed to. It hardly seemed fair for him to have this, he thought staring at the vial in her hand.

As if she’d heard his thoughts she reached for his hand and pressed the potion into it closing his fingers around it. “Take it, Cullen.” She told him sternly. “Suffering unnecessarily won’t make you a better templar. It isn’t forbidden. You probably won’t even need it, but I wanted you to have it just in case.” 

She looked so earnest he couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you, Solona. That was very kind of you.” He slipped it into his pocket.

She blushed and seemed unable to meet his eye. “I’m just glad I could do something for you after all you did for me.” 

He shook his head. “I just did my duty.”

She looked up at him then. “No. You did far more than that.” Her hand went to the medallion and he knew she was thinking of those first days in the Tower. He wondered how much she truly remembered. She’d been so very young. Her next words startled him.

“In a few years I’ll be harrowed. We won’t be recruit and apprentice any more. Do you remember what you told me when you brought me to the dormitories? You said we could be friends when that happened.” 

He honestly couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said, just that she’d been crying and he’d been trying to make her feel better. “Solona…” He began to say.

“And now who’s where they shouldn’t be?” Came a sardonic voice and Cullen stiffened.

Of all the people to find them here. He turned to face Anders, expecting him to be gloating but he was looking at Solona, his expression almost pitying. 

“Library’s closing, Monkey. I guess you can’t hear the announcement back here. You need to skedaddle back to the dormitory.” He stood aside so she could step past him.

Solona’s cheeks were bright pink, and Cullen suspected that his were red as well. Thankfully Anders didn’t say anything further. 

And who should they run into immediately outside the door but Knight Commander Greagoir. He glanced at the door they just exited and his eyebrows came together in a frown. “What’s the meaning of this? What were you all doing back there?”

Before either Cullen or Solona could say anything, Anders was speaking. 

“I’m afraid it’s my fault Knight Commander.” He said with a charming smile. “I’d just stepped in there looking for some information on healing practices in Tevinter. Little Solona forgot all about my harrowing and rushed in to remind me that apprentices weren’t allowed back there. She was worried that I might get in to trouble, because, well, you know how I am.” He gave a helpless but charming laugh.

“Yes.” Greagoir agreed wryly. “I do indeed.” He looked at Cullen. “And you went in there to investigate I presume.” 

Cullen hesitated and Anders eyes widened behind Greagoir’s head. He began nodding his head vigorously up and down.

“I…yes, Ser.” It wasn’t a lie but it had the feeling of one.

Greagoir looked down at Solona and his expression softened. “It’s all very well to want to protect your friends Solona, but the rules are in place for a reason. And as it turns out your friend wasn’t even breaking the rules.” 

Solona swallowed nervously. “No, Ser. I’m sorry, Ser. It won’t happen again.” 

“You’re a good girl Solona. I’m sure it won’t. Off with you then, it’s almost lights out.” Solona went quickly over to her table and gathered up her books and papers. She looked over at Cullen, touched the Andraste medallion and left the library.

Greagoir turned to Anders with a frown that the mage ignored. 

“Well I’ll just be off then, unless there’s anything else?” 

Greagoir looked as if there were a great many things he’d like to say, but he finally simply said. “No nothing else.” And Anders sauntered off. 

Greagoir turned to Cullen. “Anders may be a harrowed mage, but he still needs to be watched. You didn’t see him go into the restricted section?” 

“No, sir.” Again it wasn’t a lie but…

Greagoir was silent for a moment. “He’s a fully harrowed mage. Technically he did nothing wrong. Still….” He looked at Cullen. “Keep an eye on him while you’re on duty here. Let me know if he continues to spend time in there.” 

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said automatically. If anyone had told him even an hour ago that he’d be feeling guilty about Anders he wouldn’t have believed them. 

“That’s all. Have a good evening, Cullen.” 

Cullen watched him leave, and waited until the last of the mages had left the library and then left the chamber heading towards the stairs. 

He reached the next level of the tower and found Anders standing there grinning at him. 

“Thank you.” Cullen forced himself to say.

Anders just shrugged. “My reputation’s in the privy anyway. And I didn’t do it for you,”

No. Cullen supposed he hadn’t. “Thank you just the same.” He started to walk past him, but Anders fell into step beside him.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Anders said pleasantly.

“Thank you.” He said again, a little stiffly this time.

Anders looked vaguely surprised. “I said they were in order. I didn’t say I was offering them.” 

Cullen’s mouth tightened into a line but he didn’t respond. 

Anders looked sideways at him and laughed. “Oh, don’t be like that. Of course you have my congratulations. And good luck with that whole willingly ingesting an addictive and poisonous substance. I hear that works out fabulously in the end. Look at old Berik.” 

Knight Captain Berik had finally been retired to the Chantry in Denerim after he’d stripped off his uniform and run naked through the dining hall during breakfast a few months earlier. 

Was that going to be his future as well? “Ser Berik served the order honorably.” Cullen forced himself to say. “He was – is – a good man.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t, old chap. And I’m sure you’ll still be serving just as honorably when you’re his age, provided a demon doesn’t gobble you up before then. I just hope I’m still around to see it when you lose your marbles and go running starkers through the Tower.” 

_Ass_. Thought Cullen. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I do.” Anders sounded positively chipper. “I’m off to bed like a good little mage. She’s got a crush on you, you know.” He said abruptly. 

Cullen gave him a baffled look. “You can’t mean, Solona? She’s a child.”

It was all Anders could do to keep from smacking his forehead. Had Cullen really not noticed the changes that had taken place – were taking place? Could the man possibly be that unobservant? He must be. He didn’t seem smart enough to lie about it. 

“You think so?” He asked. “Well, it’s a debatable point, I suppose, though it won’t be for much longer. You might consider that the next time you drag her off to some dark and deserted corner of the Tower.” 

He increased his pace, leaving Cullen behind, staring after him with a puzzled frown on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


	6. Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl gives Anders some unwelcome news.

The light was dim to nonexistent in the caverns that ran beneath the Circle Tower. It was dank and cold and damp, crates of supplies were stacked haphazardly along the walls, and rumor had it that there had been a recent hatching of giant spiders, the kind that loved nothing more than to leap out unexpectedly and attack, but to Karl Thekla, right at this very moment, it seemed like paradise. 

He stroked his hand through Anders’ thick golden hair, letting it trail down to the bare skin of his shoulder, tracing a trail over the pale freckles there. 

Anders was beautiful. 

Karl had always thought so, objectively, when the boy had first come to the Tower, and less objectively as he grew up and started using that beauty to his advantage, flirting and seducing his way almost systematically through the place. When he had finally given in to the undeniable temptation Anders offered, he’d thought it would be a mostly physical thing. Anders, he thought, had just been wanting what he thought he couldn’t have, just as Karl had been wanting what he shouldn’t. After that first kiss he’d even tried to convince himself that he was doing it to keep the boy safe, for he continued to think of him as a boy, even after he’d been harrowed and earned the title Enchanter (and never had the name seemed so appropriate). 

Anders was beautiful, and being with him had turned out to be so much more than Karl had ever expected. 

Lying here like this, naked in each other’s arms, on a scratchy wool blanket that did nothing to counter the hardness of the cave floor it covered, felt like paradise, or at least as close to it as one could get as a Circle mage.

And that was the reason why he was about to destroy it. 

Karl closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears, and forced himself to say what he had to say.

“I’m transferring to the Circle at Kirkwall.”

 

At first the words didn’t quite register: _I’m transferring to the Circle at Kirkwall._

No. He must have imagined it, Anders thought, but all the same a small prickle of dread crept down his spine. Karl’s voice had been calm, but the hand that had been stroking his hair had stopped moving and was gripping his shoulder so tightly that it was almost painful. Slowly he raised his head off Karl’s chest and looked at him. 

Karl didn’t say anything more, just watched him with those blue-grey eyes that seemed as calm as ever. 

He forced himself to laugh. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t possible have heard that correctly. What did you just say?”

“I’m transferring to the Circle at Kirkwall.” Karl repeated quietly. He didn’t add anything more.

Anders blinked at him. “That’s what I heard the first time.” He said finally. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Obviously one of us has gone mad, and strangely enough I don’t think it’s me. Why the Void would you be sent to Kirkwall? You haven’t done anything wrong.” _Kirkwall_. Anders couldn’t help a shudder. The Gallows was spoken of in fearful whispers among the mages at Kinloch Hold, a cautionary tale to prevent wrongdoing. _Behave or you’ll be sent to Kirkwall’s circle._

Karl was still watching him carefully. He didn’t look scared or worried and it was a moment before Anders realized the words he’d actually spoken. Not _I’m being transferred to Kirkwall_ but _I’m transferring to Kirkwall_. 

“You’re going willingly?” Oh yes, one of them had definitely gone mad but now Anders knew who, and he knew who had encouraged the madness: the fucking Libertarians. 

Anders didn’t bother with the so called ‘fraternities’ among the mages in the Circle. He saw no point to them. The Loyalists were lapdogs to an almost masochistic extent: they’d probably be willing to wear a collar and leash if the Chantry asked them to. The Aequitarians were only slightly better. The Lucrosians seemed to believe if they could profit from their magic it would somehow make them invulnerable to any punishment the Templars could come up with. And the Isolationists functioned under the delusional belief that if no one could see them no one would bother them. But the Libertarians – they were the worst in his opinion. 

“Anders...” Karl reached out to touch him but Anders jerked out of reach, grabbing the robes he’d haphazardly tossed aside earlier and yanking them over his head. He scrambled to his feet, bashing his head into the low ceiling of the cave in his haste. He cursed reaching up to steady himself, and Karl was there at his side, trying to see how badly he’d hurt himself.

Anders held his hand up, keeping him from getting close. “Don’t.” He warned him, and Karl took a step back. 

His head was throbbing and he felt vaguely ill, though whether that was due to the blow to his head or what Karl had just told him he couldn’t honestly say. He stared down at the blankets and the candle and the bottle of wine he’d stolen from the kitchens, the fucking pathetic love nest he prepared so carefully.

The storerooms in the caves beneath Kinloch Hold weren’t romantic by any stretch of the imagination but thanks to recent rumors of an infestation of giant spiders they were now, for the most part, deserted and had plenty of dark corners. Toss a blanket or two down on the ground and you could almost pretend you were on a bed. 

Anders could count on one hand the number of times he’d made love in a bed: on tables, on desks, against a wall or a bookcase, sure, but in a bed? That was rare for a mage in Kinloch Hold, and lingering after the deed was done was even more rare.

Of course the Templars and the Chantry liked to pretend that sex didn’t happen in the Tower, which was ridiculous. Anders first weeks in the infirmary had shown him that. Contraceptive potions were given out with no questions asked, and ‘solutions’ to unwanted pregnancies had only to be requested. Neither request raised an eyebrow; it was only when the Chantry heard of the pregnancy that ending it became … problematic. 

The simple truth was sex happened all the time: hurried encounters against a wall in a dark corner of the library or over a desk in a deserted classroom, sneaking into someone’s bunk in the dormitories when you were younger, trying desperately to keep quiet enough that the others could pretend they didn’t hear you and didn’t know what was really going on. 

Anders had boasted to Karl about how he’d arranged the tryst, of planting the rumors about the spiders, and when Karl had agreed to meet him down here he’d looked forward to it in a way he seldom let himself.

He should have known it would all go to shit. _Kirkwall._

“Anders.” Karl reached out again, sliding his hands into Anders' hair, and pulling him close so their foreheads were touching, and Anders let him. 

Karl closed his eyes for a minute wanting to get the words right. He’d known how difficult this would be for Anders to understand. “The situation in Kirkwall is growing more dire by the day. The Libertarians think...” 

Anders jerked out of his touch again. “Fuck the Libertarians.” He said angrily. “They volunteered you for this, didn’t they? It’s insane. Tell them you refuse.” He demanded.

Karl cut him off. “They didn’t volunteer me. I volunteered myself.” 

“Then you’re insane.” Anders retorted.

Karl gave him an almost wistful smile. “It’s not insane to want a better world for mages. It’s not insane to want to change things."

“It’s insane to think that you can.” Anders snapped back. And that was why the Libertarians were the worst of all,: because they made you think there was a chance that things would change, that the Chantry and the Templars would ever loosen their grip. There was a dull buzzing in his head. The whole conversation was unreal. Karl was leaving. After …. Maker he couldn’t even remember how long together – years – Karl had asked to leave. 

To leave him.

 _What about us?_ He wanted to scream the words but he couldn’t even get himself to speak them out loud. Didn’t it, didn’t they mean anything to him? 

The answer was immediate: of course not

Mages didn’t have relationships. You didn’t show your attachment to anyone, you didn’t reveal your greatest weakness, hand the templars the weapon they needed to destroy you. No one had ever told him that, no one had ever the words out loud; it was simply understood. 

Certainly no mage he knew had ever dared to fall in love.

At least no mage who would ever admit it. Certainly he and Karl had never said the words.

Karl spoke again, apparently taking his silence for acceptance or the beginning of it at least. “It’s the Free Marches, Anders, not the moon. Between the Libertarians and the Mage’s Underground in Kirkwall I’ll be able to write, and you can write back…” He stopped when he saw the expression on Anders face: cold, angry, wounded beyond belief.

“You want me to write to you?” Anders asked incredulously, but before Karl could answer he spoke again. “When do you leave?” He demanded.

“The end of the month.” Karl told him quietly and he saw a flash of raw naked pain in Anders eyes. 

_Ten days_. Anders thought. In ten days Karl would be gone, to one of the worst Circles in Thedas, and he’d volunteered for it. Karl was leaving him, willingly, abandoning him to fight for his hopeless cause. 

And he thought the promise of a few letters from across the Waking Sea would make it better? 

He shoved his feet into his shoes. “Don’t bother writing.” He snarled, and stormed out into the tunnels, ignoring Karl's calling his name, barely able to see where he was going because of the tears in his eyes. 

_Fucking Libertarians, fucking Templars, fucking Circles, fucking Chantry._

He wanted to scream, to roar with helpless rage, to throw things, a fireball or lightning bolt if possible, but he couldn’t, not in the Circle, not even down here, you couldn’t let them know you were hurting or angry. A choked strangled sob escaped him, and he wiped furiously at his eyes, the rough wool of his robes scratching against his skin. 

_Fucking Karl._

 

For the next ten days he avoided Karl whenever possible, and ignored him when it wasn’t. 

Two days before Karl was to leave, Anders walked into the infirmary for his shift, late because he’d waited until he knew Karl was teaching a class.

Solona was there already, working already, cataloging the supply cabinet. Of course. 

“Aren’t you ever late?” He asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

She turned those dark liquid eyes on him. “Why would I be?” She asked. She didn’t smile. She rarely did. And he could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard her laugh.

“That may be the saddest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He told her, and instead of helping her he flopped into a nearby chair watching her work, knowing she wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking for his help. It was a game they played frequently, but to his surprise after a few moments she spoke, thought she didn't bother to look over at him. 

“Karl came by looking for you.”

Anders mouth went mutinous. “Did he?”

“Did you think he wouldn’t? Isn’t that why you’re so late?” She asked him.

Solona was nothing if not direct. He didn’t answer.

“You’re being an ass.” Solona informed him. 

He glanced over at her. She was no longer a child by anyone's standards. She wore that thick dark hair in coiled braids at the base of her neck, a style that had been popular ever since King Cailan and Queen Anora had visited the Circle. It wasn’t a look Anders cared for, too tight to restrained and few of the mages could pull it off. Solona could of course. With her height and dignified beauty, she looked more royal than the Queen herself had.

 _Solona Amell_. She was still Irving’s pet, still the model mage, constantly held up as an example to the others. It hadn’t made her any friends over the years, and neither had the aloof air with which she carried herself. Few people realized the aloofness masked her shyness. 

Anders swung his legs up onto the desk. “Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise to you; you’ve always thought I was an ass.” 

Solona gave him that look she’d perfected of late: that disdainful looking down her nose look, that disappointed, you've failed to live up to my lofty standards look. Of course there wasn’t a man alive who could live up to Solona Amell’s standards.

Well perhaps there was one: Cullen. Anders tilted the chair back on two legs and stared up at the ceiling.

There was no doubt these days that Cullen knew Solona had grown up. He could barely look at her without blushing, could hardly speak to her without stammering, and if they were in the same room he could scarcely keep his eyes off her. The whole Tower knew how he felt about her: few realized Solona returned his feelings just as strongly.

Neither of them acted on it of course. That wouldn’t be following the rules, and Apprentice Amell and Knight Corporal – sorry – Knight Lieutenant Cullen were all about the rules. Anders doubted they'd ever even kissed. They'd probably never even touched.

He lowered his head to look at her and started when he realized she was standing right in front of him. The front legs of the chair came down with a loud thud.

Solona hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at him, her eyes blazing with emotion that she rarely, if ever, showed. 

“Yes, I do know you’re an ass." She informed him. "I never thought you were cruel though.“ And with that she turned and walked into the other room, as if she couldn't even stand to be in the same space as him.

He knew the feeling. He made no move to follow her, or to do any of the work he was supposed to. He just sat there where she'd left him, feeling like the miserable petty bastard he no doubt was. 

He still didn’t speak to Karl, not even on the morning of his departure for Kirkwall when he came to the infirmary looking for him. 

Anders had a good reason for it though: he’d left the tower himself an hour earlier.

It was the first of several escape attempts he made in the following months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but a chapter nonetheless. I count this as a victory. 
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [It Might Have Been photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/It+Might+have+Been)


End file.
